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., J-'AYEDTROM A PHOTOG-RAPH EXPBESSLT FOR TH1S"W0jIK;. 
A.I)."<A'ORTH1NGTON & C0.,PUBLISHEK3, tlARTF ORE, CONN, 



MY STORY OF THE WAR: 

3. tooman's Narrative 



OF 



FOUR YEARS PERSONAL EXPERIENCE 



AS NURSE IN THE UNION ARMY, AND IN RELIEF WORK AT HOME, 

IN HOSPITALS, CAMPS, AND AT THE FRONT, DURING 

THE WAR OF THE REBELLION. 



^nectiotes, Patfjcttc Kncttients, antr Eijrtlling lElcmmtscences 

PORTRAYING 

THE LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF HOSPITAL LIFE 

AND 

THE SANITARY SERVICE OF THE WAR. 



BY 

MARY A. LIVERMORE. 



^ttp^cvMtj JUnstvattd 

WITH PORTRAITS AND NUMEROUS FULL-PAGE ENGRAVINGS ON 
STEEL, AND FINE CHROMO-LITHOGRAPH PLATES. 



A. D. WORTHINGTON AND COMPANY. 

1889. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1887, 

By a. D. Worthington and Company, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



D.Ooia.&L«j| 



TO 

THE VICTORIOUS SOLDIERS OF THE UNION ARMY, 

HOWEVER CIRCUMSTANCED AND WHEREVER LIVING; 
TO 

Efft l^onoreli iilemorg of t!)e '^txaic ©eali, 

WHO MADE THE SOIL OF THE SOUTH BILLOWY 
WITH THEIR graves; 

AND TO 

an' suRvivrNG co-workers in that noble organization, 

THE UNITED STATES SANITARY COMMISSION, 
THIS WORK IS DEDICATED. 




A T the close of the war, I was importuned to publish my 
experiences and reminiscences in connection with the 
hospitals and the relief work of the Sanitary Commission. 
But I declined to do so. A horror of the war still en- 
wrapped the country. The salvation of the nation had been 
purchased with the blood of her sons, and she was still in 
the throes of anguish because of her bereavement. The 
people had turned with relief to the employments of peace- 
ful life, eager to forget the fearful years of battle and car- 
nage. I put away all mementoes of the exceptional life I 
had led, and re-entered with gladness upon the duties con- 
nected with my home and family, giving my leisure, as 
before the war, to charitable work and literary pursuits. 
I expected this quiet and happy order of things would con- 
tinue to the end. 

It has been otherwise ordered. The twenty-odd years 
that have passed since the bells rang in the long prayer for 
peace have been unlike any of which I had ever dreamed. 
They have been packed wjth work, have brought me in con- 
tact with people and events of national importance, have 
afforded me extended opportunities of travel in my own 
country and Europe, and have given me a largeness and 



8 PREFACE. 

variety of experience not often gained by a woman. The 
sun of my life is now sloping swiftly to the west, the years 
that I have travelled lie stretching in long array behind me, 
and I am approaching the time when one lives much in 
memory. I have again been asked to write for publication 
my story of the war and its relief work, and this time the 
request has found me favorably disposed to the undertaking. 

The public ear has listened eagerly to the stories of the 
great battles of the war of the rebellion, told by the master 
spirits who conducted them, and who led the hosts of free- 
dom to victory. The plan of the campaigns, the division 
of the forces, and the parts assigned to the various officers 
in command, the topography of the battle-fields, the personal 
prowess and heroism developed in the hotly contested 
struggle, and the jubilant victory which resulted, whose 
paeans of joy drowned the cries of the wounded and the 
wails of bereavement — of these histories the people have not 
grown weary. Every detail of Fort Donelson and Vicks- 
burg, Antietam and Gettysburg, and the surrender of 
Appomattox is eagerly sought and devoured with zest. 
Millions of readers bend over the thrilling autobiographies 
of Grant, Sherman, Logan, and other great captains of the 
memorable war, when, on the top wave of a nation's right- 
eous wrath with slavery, four million of slaves were lifted 
to the level of freemen. 

But there is a paucity of histories of the private soldier, 
of sketches of the rank and file. These have not been 
written, partly because of the modesty of the men whose 
experiences were worth narrating, and partly because they 
were not favorably circumstanced for extensive observation. 
There is a whole world of thrilling and heroic deed and 
endeavor, of lofty patience, silent endurance and sacrifice, 
connected with the soldiers of the army, of. which the world 



PREFACE. 9 

will always remain ignorant. It cannot be told. Neither 
can the deeds of nobleness performed by the people who 
remained at home, and who stood loyally by the government 
in its every hour of extremity. They measured their ready 
aid b}^ the nation's need, and, in their consecration to the 
cause of national unity and freedom, outran all outward 
demands made upon them. 

The patriotism of men, the solemn joyfulness with which 
they gave of their possessions and of themselves, the unfal- 
tering faith which no disaster could shake and no treachery 
enfeeble, who has told us of these, in detail ? Who has 
fully narrated the consecrated and organized work of 
women, who strengthened the sinews of the nation with 
their unflagging enthusiasm, and bridged over the chasm 
between civil and military life, by infusing homogeneousness 
of feeling into the army and the people, " keeping the men 
in the field civilians, and making the people at home, of 
both sexes, half soldiers " ? It can never be understood 
save by those who lived through that period, when one year 
counted more in the history of noble development than a 
half-score of ordinary years of buying and selling, building 
and furnishing, visiting and feasting. If this book shall in 
any way help to supply the deficiency I have indicated, my 
purpose will be accomplished. 

I am largely indebted to my husband and friends for the 
materials from which this book has been made. My own 
tendency is to destroy the records of my past, as soon as an 
event or experience has ended. I have had little taste for 
preserving records, journals, memoranda, and letters, and am 
never hampered with this sort of impedimenta. "Let the 
dead past bury its dead!" has been- one of my cherished 
mottoes. The duty of the hour, the work of the "living 
present," has enthralled me, rather than contemplation of 



10 PREFACE. 

the past. But, in this instance, what I have been careless 
of preserving, my kindred and friends have held in trust 
for me. 

For more than a dozen years, covering the entire period 
of the war, I was associated with my husband in the editor- 
ship of his paper, published in Chicago. For its columns I 
wrote sketches of all events, that were interesting or inspir- 
ing, in connection with the Sanitary Commission. Its 
readers were informed of every phase of its relief work, as 
soon as it was undertaken, and of its special calls for aid. 
And when I went to the hospitals on errands connected with 
the sick, wounded and djdng, or made trips into the army in 
charge of sanitary stores, for whose disbursement I was held 
responsible, I always corresponded for the press. And no 
issue of my husband's paper appeared, when I was thus 
engaged, that did not contain long letters from the front, 
packed with narrations of facts and events, for which I 
knew its readers were eagerly looking. 

I sent similar letters to other periodicals in the North- 
west, wrote war sketches for magazines struggling for exist- 
ence, edited the monthly bulletins of the Chicago Branch of 
the Commission, which were its means of communication 
with its four thousand Aid Societies, wrote its circular 
letters appealing for specific and immediate aid, wrote for 
its contributors a detailed history of the first great Sanitary 
Fair, which proved the inspiration and model of those which 
followed it, dictated and penned letters by the thousand 
from the rooms of the Commission, which were inspired by 
the emergencies of tlie time, and which have been largely 
preserved by the individuals and societies to whom they 
were addressed, answered every soldier's letter that I 
received, whether I had ever heard of him or not, wrote 
letters by the hundred to their friends at home, by the bed- 



rREFACE. 11 

side of sick, wounded and dying soldiers, and in behalf of 
those who had died — in short, notwithstanding the hercu- 
lean work imposed on me, as on all women at the head of 
the Branch Commissions, I accomplished more with my pen 
during the four years of the war than during any similar 
period of time before or since. 

Whatever of mine was published, or whatever related to 
my work during the war, my husband preserved in chrono- 
logical order, as he did all memoranda or diaries made by 
me. And whatever letters came to me from the army, or 
from civilians working in the interest of the country, he saved 
from destruction. When to these were added my personal 
letters to friends, which after twenty years were returned, 
in response to an appeal for them, copies of circulars, bulle- 
tins, reports, crude magazine sketches, synopses of addresses, 
all inspired by the one absorbing topic of the time — the 
war for the Union, and its brave soldiers, with their anxious 
and suffering families, — I was embarrassed by the enormous 
bulk of the collection. It was no small task to collate and 
arrange the appalling^ mass of documents, and to decide 
what would be of present interest, and what had been made 
A^alueless by the lapse of years. 

At last the book is completed, and is now presented to the 
public. In no sense does it purport to be a history. It is 
a collection of experiences and reminiscences, more interest- 
ing to me in the retrospect than at the time of their occur- 
rence. For then all who loved their native land, and strove 
to save it from disintegration, carried its woes on their 
hearts like a personal bereavement, and only lived through 
the awful anguish by the help of the mighty panacea of 
absorbing work for others. No one is more keenly alive 
than I to the defects of this volume. But any farther 
attempt at improvement would result, I fear, in its entire 



12 PREFACE. 

withdravva,!. And as I have something to say in behalf of 
the common soldiers, most of them veritable Philip Sidneys 
in their heroism and unselfishness, and of that noble army 
of women who worked untiringly for the right, while the 
war lasted, " exerting a greater moral force on the nation 
than the army that carried loaded muskets," I hasten to 
save my work from destruction, by placing it beyond my 
reach, in the hands of the publisher. 

May it receive a warm welcome from the " Boys in Blue," 
whose thinning ranks can never know an increase, and from 
my surviving co-workers in the Sanitary Commission, whose 
beloved comradeship is one of the priceless possessions of 
which the covetous years have not wholly bereft me. 




iTmelg (Sngraceb on Steel 

JFrom p{)otograpf)s, anlJ from ©rtgtnal IBcstgns bratan ciprcsslg for tfjis luorlt 
bg Mx. JF. ©. C. IBarlEg anli JHr. aJSm. iL. .SijepparS. 



PORTRAITS. 



1. PORTKAIT OF THE AUTHOR Frontispiece 

From a photograph taken expressly for this work. Engraved on steel 
in pure line, by Mr. Charles Schlecht. 



MRS. JANE C. HOGE 



MRS. MARY A. BTCKERDYKE 

("MOTHER BICKERDTKE") 

MISS MARY J. SAFFORD. . , 



PAGE 

Women of the War. — 
Famous Nurses of Un- 
ion Soldiers . To face 160 



MRS. CORDELIA A. P. HARVEY, 

Engraved from photographs expressly for this work by Mr. S. Hollyer. 



FIGURE ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Engraved on steel in pure line and stipple, by TVIr. John J. Cade. 

A WOMAN IN BATTLE.— '' MICHIGAN BRIDGET" CARRY- 
ING THE FLAG. Designed by F. O. C. Darley . . To face 116 

" Sometimes when a soldier fell she took his place, fighting in his stead 
with unquailing courage — always fearless and daring, always doing good 
service as a soldier." 

13 



14 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



2. THE DYING SOLDIER. — THE LAST LETTER FROM 

HOME. Designed by F. O. C. Dakley To face 210 

"He drew from an inside pocket a letter inclosing a photograph of a 
most lovely woman, and feebly whispered, ' My wife.' I spoke to him, but 
he seemed not to hear, and there was a far-away look in the gaze, as if his 
vision reached beyond my ken. The wardmaster approached, and laid his 
finger on the wrist. 'He is dead!' he whispered." 

3. PRAYER-MEETING IN A CONTRABAND CAMP. — WASH- 

INGTON, 1862. Designed by Wm. L. Sheppakd . . To face 262 
"Oh, I'm gwine home to glory — won't yer go along wid me, 
Whar de blessed angels beckon, an' de Lor' my Savior be ? " 

4. FLEEING FROM THE LAND OF BONDAGE. — ON THE 

MISSISSIPPI KIVER IN 1863. Designed by F. O. C. Dak- 
ley To face 342 

" Mothers carried their babes on one arm, and led little woolly-headed 
toddlers by the other. Old men and women, gray, nearly blind, some of 
them bent almost double, bore on their heads and backs the small 'plun-, 
der ' they had ' toted ' from their homes. They were all going forth, like 
the Israelites, ' from the land of bondage to a land they knew not.' " 

5. "OUR BATTERY" AT THE FRONT.— REVEILLE AFTER 

AN ANXIOUS NIGHT. Designed by Wm. L. Sheppakd. 

To face 380 
" They stood ready to aid in an immediate attack for three days and 
nights." 

6. DEATH OF SERGEANT DYER WHILE SPIKING HIS GUN. 

Designed by F. O. C. Dakley To face 394 

" Our boys tried to save their guns, but, finding that impossible, they 
endeavored to spike them. Sergeant Dyer, whom I have before mentioned 
as a rare nurse in sickness, was shot through the lungs, and mortally 
wounded, while in the act of spiking his gun. Of one hundred and ten 
horses, they took off the field but forty-five." 

7. MIDNIGHT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. Designed by F. O. 

C. Dakley ^ To face 484 

" It was Mother Bickerdyke, with a lantern, still groping among the 
dead. Stooping down and turning their cold fiices towards her, she scru- 
tinized them searchingly, uneasy lest some might be left to die uncared for. 
She could not rest while she thought any were overlooked who were yet 
living." 

8. A REBEL SHELL BURSTING IN A UNION HOSPITAL. 

Designed by F. O. C. Dakley To face 494 

"On the second day of the fight (Corinth), to her horror, her hospital 
came within range of the enemy's artillery, and the fearful missiles of death 
fell with fatal precision among her helpless men." 




ARRANGED BY STATES. 



MAINE. 

PLATE PAGE 

IsT Maine Heavy Artillery ii. . . 239 

NEW HAMPSHIRE. 

5th Regiment Infantry vi. . . 597 

VERMONT. 

Headquarters Guidon of the Old Vermont Brigade, i. . . 93 

1st Vermont Cavalry vi. . . 597 

MASSACHUSETTS. 

20th Regiment Infantry vi. . . 597 

21ST Regiment Infantry ii. . . 239 

24th Regiment Infantry ii. . . 2.39 

54th Regiment Infantry vi. . . 597 

RHODE ISLAND. 

1st Rhode Island Cavalry vi. . . 597 

CONNECTICUT. 

1st Connecticut Heavy Artillery ii. , . 239 

11th Regiment Infantry i. . . 93 

14th Regiment Infantry ii. , . 239 

16th Regiment Infantry vi. . . 597 

NEW YORK. 

7th Nevv^ York Heavy Artillery iii. . . 329 

18th New York Cavalry viii. . . 657 

40th Regiment Infantry ii. . . 239 

48th Regiment Infantry v. . . 443 

lOoTu Regiment Infantry v. . . 443 

NEW JERSEY. 

1st New Jersey Cavalry v. . . 443 

9th Regiment Infantry v. . . 443 

PENNSYLVANIA. 

78th Regiment Infantry viii. . . 6.57 

83d Regiment Infantry v. . . 443 

150th Regiment Infantry v. . . 443 

15 



16 BATTLE-FLAGS, ARRANGED BY STATES. 



OHIO. PLATE PAGE 

McMullen's 1st Independent Ohio Battery .... vii. . . 625 

78th Regiment Infantry viii. . . 657 

INDIANA. 

32d Regiment Infantry viii. . . 65T 

KENTUCKY. 

9th Regiment Infantry viii. . . 657 

ILLINOIS. 

13th Regiment Infantry iii. . . 329' 

129th Regiment Infantry viii. . . 657 

MICHIGAN. 

2d Regiment Infantry iii. . . 329' 

24th Regiment Infantry iii. . . 329- 

WISCONSIN. 

" Old Abe," Wisconsin's War Eagle vii. . . 625 

2d Regiment Infantry vii. . . 625 

MINNESOTA. 

1st Minnesota Artillery iii. . . 329' 

IOWA. 

9th Regiment Infantry vii. . . 625 

MISSOURI. 

7th Regiment Infantry vii. . . 625 

8th Regiment Infantry iii. . . 329 

KANSAS. 

2d Regiment Infantry vii. . . 625 

2d Kansas Battery vii. . . 625 

Headquarters Guidon of the 6th Army Corps . . i. . . 93 



CONFEDERATE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

Battle-Flag captured from General Bragg . . . iv. . . 421 

Battle-Flag of the 42d Mississippi Regiment . . . iv. . . 421 

Battle-Flag of the 12th Mississippi C/valry . . . iv. . . 421 

Blood-Stain ED Silk Flag OF THE 9th Texas Regiment, iv. . . 421 

Battle-Flag of Austin's Battery iv. . . 421 

Battle-Flag of a South Carolina Regiment . . . iv. . . 421 
Battle-Flag, black (no quarter), supposed to have 

belonged to a Texas Regiment iv. . . 421 

Silk Battle-Flag iv. . . 421. 






FrvS[- 



nnHE Publishers deem a few words of explanation neces- 
sary respecting the colored battle-flag plates which 
occupy so prominent a place in this volume. No patriot eye 
can look upon these battle-stained mementos of the war 
without mingled feelings of admiration, pride, and sadness. 
They have been wafted by the sighs and prayers of a strug- 
gling people, and hallowed by the blood of patriot sons. 
They have a peculiar fitness and place in this record of a 
woman's work for and among private soldiers, for they were 
the men who proudly and bravely carried them. Private 
soldiers were the true heroes of the war. Their bravery 
was as great, their judgment often as good, and their capac- 
ity for commanding often equal to those under whom they 
were content to fight without distinction or reward. 

It was no part of the original plan to introduce in this 
volume so many of these flags. It was at first thought that 
a single frontispiece page, composed of two or three flags in 
facsimile, would be a novel and appropriate feature, and lend 
additional interest to the work. But it proved a difficult 
and delicate matter to select only two or three from many 
thousand flags entitled to representation ; for the Publishers 
wished to act with strict impartiality and without rendering 
themselves open to the criticism of exalting one flag, regi- 

17 



18 publishers' introduction to the flags. 

ment,or state over others entitled to equal praise. In this 
dilemma it became apparent that if flags were introduced as 
illustrations at all, the North ought to be generally repre- 
sented. 

To this end an artist and a photographer were sent to the 
capital of each northern state, to make photographs and 
color sketches of the flags. Serious and unexpected obsta- 
cles met them at the very outset, for nearly every state had 
provided a permanent place for its tattered banners, and 
rightfully guarded them with tender care. In several states 
legislative enactments made it seemingly impossible to obtain 
permission to disturb the flags in the least, — no hand was 
even permitted to touch them — much less to remove them 
from their glass cases for any purpose whatever. And yet 
it was absolutely necessary to take them out of the cases 
and arrange them properly before they could be photo- 
graphed and color sketches made. One by one all obstacles 
were surmounted, and the Publishers are at last enabled to 
show the flags with exact fidelity to the originals, both in 
appearance and color. 

In selecting the flags the Publishers endeavored to exer- 
cise a wise and careful discrimination. Their artists photo- 
graphed a number of flags in each state capital, selecting 
those that were represented as possessing the most interest- 
ing history. From these the Publishers made a final choice, 
and they were guided in this by first obtaining from reliable 
sources a history of each flag, finally selecting those that 
appeared to have the greatest interest attached to them. 
They cannot hope that they have been completely successful 
in making this selection, but they acted wholly from tl-/ 
best information they could obtain, and carefully weighed 
every fact and incident, and the authority for them, before 
making their decision. If one color-bearer or regiment per- 



publishers' introduction to the flags. 19 

formed more conspicuous service than another, it was only 
because of better opportunity. All were brave men, and 
the Publishers regret that every Union battle-flag could 
not find a place in this book. If all the heroic deeds of 
those who died under their folds, and of those who took 
their places and kept the colors flying, could be gathered, 
they would fill a volume. 

The most difficult task of all was to obtain the story of 
each flag and establish its truth. Many of the men who so 
proudly carried them in battle sleep in unknown graves on 
southern battle-fields, far away from their northern homes. 
" Southern dews will weep above them as gently as though 
they lay in their northern village church-yards ; grass and 
grain will cover them ; winter will decorate their resting- 
places as with monumental marble, and summer will spread 
over them its flowers of red, white and blue ; the labors of 
the husbandmen may obliterate these hillocks of the dead, 
but the power of their sacrifice will forever circulate in the 
life of the nation." * Of the survivors many have died 
since the close of the war, and twenty-five years have made 
the memory of those who are left much less reliable than 
they think. Conflicting statements have arisen even from 
those who were eye-witnesses of some of the scenes de- 
scribed, but these differences were generally respecting 
minor details. Even official statements do not always agree. 
In one state capitol is exhibited a flag on which is pinned a 
piece of paper purporting to give its history. The story is 
very thrilling, but only a small part of it is true. The 
writer of it (unknown) simply got the story of two flags 
mixed and attached his " history " to a single flag, which is 
daily gazed upon by visitors, who naturally regard this par- 

* Rev. Dr.E. H. Chapin on presentation of New York battle-flags, at 
Albany, N. Y. 

2 



20 publishers' introduction to the flags. 

ticular flag as the most interesting of them all. To get at 
the truth under such circumstances was by no means easy. 
A vast amount of correspondence, too, was necessary. Vet- 
erans of the war are widely scattered. One comrade would 
refer to another, and he to another, often in a distant state, 
and frequently after long and patient search information was 
returned that the man sought for died many years ago. 
Sometimes the most meagre data came in response to re- 
peated appeals, and where the most was expected the least 
was obtained. Many letters were returned marked "un- 
known " or " uncalled for." It is much to be regretted that 
a full history could not be obtained of all the flags. Earnest 
and patient effort was made in every case. 

It will be seen from the above statement that the labor 
and care involved in producing these illustrations have neces- 
sarily made this part of the work both diflicult and slow, 
and in consequence the publication of the volume has been 
delayed nearly two years. 

One page is devoted to a few of the many hundred Con- 
federate battle-flags captured by Union soldiers. With two 
exceptions these are from photographs and color sketches 
made from the original flags, in the keeping of the War 
Department at Washington. The statements pertaining to 
these flags are taken from Government Record and presuma- 
bly are correct. 

The Publishers invite further information from any source 
respecting the flags shown in this volume, so that in future 
editions of the work a still fuller history of each one may 
be given. Despite the greatest care, inaccuracies may have 
crept into the narratives, and the Publishers will gladly 
correct any misstatements. 

Finally, the Publishers return their sincere thanks to all — 
and their name is Legion — who have in any way helped 



publishers' introduction to the flags. 21 

them in this undertaking. The uniform courtesy of gover- 
nors and state officials made it possible to obtain photographs 
and color sketches of the flags ; and veterans of the war, 
and others, have imparted valuable information, without 
which the story of these flags could not have been written. 



THE FLA a OF QUE UNI OK 

Flag of the brave ! thy folds shall flij. 
The sign of hope and triumjJh high ! 
Wlien sjyeaks the signal-trumi^el tone. 
And the lo7ig line conies glistening on 
(Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, 
Hath dimmed the glislening bayonet). 
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn 
To where thy sky-born glories burn; 
And as his simnging steps advance. 
Catch war and vengeance from the glance- 
And when the cannon mouthings loud 
Heave in wild wreaths the battle-shroud. 
And gory sabres rise and fall 
Like shoots of flame on midiiighCs 2)all — 
There shall thy meteor-glances glow. 
And cowering foes shall sink beneath 
Each gallant arm thai strikes below 
That lovely messenger of death. 

Flag of the free hearPs hope and home^ 
By angel hands to valor given! 
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome. 
And all thy hues were born in heaven. 
Forever float thai standard sheet ! 
Where breathes the foe that falls before us. 
With Freedoni's soil beneath our feet. 
And Freedoni's banner sireaimng o'er us! 

J. Rodman Drake. 



22 




WITH 

descriptions anti ^Explanations* 



Note by the Publishers. — No expense or pains have been spared to make these 
chromo-lithograph plates accurate in drawing and coloring. The flags were first photo- 
graphed, thus insuring fulness of detail, and a color-sketch was then made of each flag, 
by a skilful artist, directly from the flag itself. The photographs were then transferred 
to stone, from which the plates herewith presented were printed. Each plate requires no 
less than sixteen printings to produce the various colors and tints necessary to a faithful 
representation of the flags, thus requiring one hundred and twenty-eight engraved stones 
to produce these eight plates. The engraving and printing were done by Messrs. Wm. 
H. Dodd & Co., Hartford, Conn. 



Plate I. 



Page 



No. 1. — Flag of the Eleventh Regiment Con- 
necticut Volunteers. 

This regiment saw over four years' service, and took an 
active part in many of the most noted battles of the war, 
including Newbern, South Mountain, Antietam, Fredericks- 
burg, Drury's Bluff, Cold Harbor, Petersburg, etc. The 
national color carried by the regiment, and which is now 
deposited in the state capitol at Hartford, consists of the 
remnants of two flags. One of these flags was presented by 
the Sons of Connecticut residing in New York, when the reg- 
iment passed through that city en route for the war, in 1861. 
In time it became so badly worn and shot-riddled that it 
could hardly be unfurled, and a new flag was presented to 
the regiment March 1, 1863, by Miss Julia A. Beach of Wal- 
lingford. Conn., through its colonel, Griffin A. Stedman, to 
whom she was engaged.* The new flag, and what remained 
of the old one, were tied to the original staff, and were in 
this manner carried by the regiment till the close of the war. 
* General Stedman was killed in front of Petersburg in 1864. 
2:"! 



24 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

The first color-sergeant was George E. Bailey, Jr., of Deep 
River, Conn., a large, fine-looking man, who was killed at 
the storming of the stone bridge at Antietam. The 11th 
led the charge, and lost one hundred and eighty-one men in 
this battle. The state flag was carried in this battle by 
Sergeant David Kittler, who refused to go forward in the 
charge because the color was not supported by a full color- 
guard. Kittler was immediately wounded by an officer, who 
slashed him across the arm with his sword for refusing to 
advance. At this moment Corporal Henry A. Eastman of 
Ashford stepped forth and said, " Give me the colors I " and, 
taking them from Kittler, went forward amid the cheers of 
his comrades. Eastman carried the colors for some time, and 
was finally promoted captain. 

At the battle of Drury's Bluff the flag was carried by 
Sergeant Orrin Wilson. Four of the color-guard were 
wounded. At the battle of Cold Harbor one of the color- 
guard was killed, and Color-Sergeant Metzger and two 
members of the color-guard were wounded. In that short, 
terrible and unsuccessful charge, nearly one-half the regi- 
ment were killed or wounded in the short space of five min- 
utes. In this battle the flag was struck by many bullets, and 
the flag-staff was shot completely in two. The staff was 
then bound together with pieces of a harness belonging to 
the horses of a battery near by. 

July 30, 1864, at the " Crater " in front of Petersburg, a 
rebel shell burst among the color-guard, killing one and 
wounding six. The one killed was literally blown to pieces, 
and his brains were spattered on the flag and staff. 

While in front of Petersburg the camp of the regiment 
was in a ravine, through which flowed a small stream of 
water. One day a violent storm quickly made the stream a 
roaring torrent, and the camp was suddenly under water. 
The men hardly had time to reach high ground before the 
camp was swept away. Corporal Reisel of the color-guard 
tried to save the colors, but was borne down by the dShris in 
the water and drowned. The colors were carried down the 
stream some distance before they were recovered. This flag 
was among the very first to enter Richmond, April 3, 1865. 



DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 25 

No. 2. — Headquarters Guidon of the Old 
Vermont Brigade. 

This was the oldest brigade in the service from Vermont, 
and had mustered on its rolls, in all, almost ten thousand 
men. At one time hard fighting had reduced its numbers 
to eleven hundred. 

The Vermont Brigade was composed of the 2d, 3d, 4th, 
6th, and 6th Vermont regiments, to which was subsequently- 
added the 11th. It was a portion of the 6th Corps, and Gen- 
eral Sedgwick proudly spoke of it as " the best brigade in the 
Army of the Potomac." Its history is written on every 
page of that of the Army of the Potomac, and no brigade 
in that gallant army performed more brilliant service or 
received greater honor. 

No. s.-Major-General John Sedgwick's Sixth 
Corps Headquarters Flag. 

No corps in the Union army was better known or more 
honored than the old 6th ; and no corps commander was 
better loved than Major-General John Sedgwick, — " Uncle 
John," as he was called by " the boys." At the close of the 
war this headquarters flag came into the possession of Colo- 
nel James H. Piatt, a member of General Sedgwick's staff and 
Judge-Advocate-General of the army. In 1868 Colonel Piatt 
presented the flag to the Association of Vermont Officers, 
and in a letter to the association said : — 

" This flag should be especially dear and sacred to the old 
Vermont brigade, as it is the only one that our beloved Sedg- 
wick ever used while he commanded the immortal 6th Corps. 
It was his headquarters hattle-flag. Always carried near his 
person in every action in which he commanded the corps, it 
will be recognized by every soldier of the Old Brigade at 
once, and must awaken in their hearts vivid memories of the 
numerous fields upon which, under its folds, they achieved 
so much of their imperishable renown. It will recall the 
noble Sedgwick, who loved them so well and was so well 



26 DESCRIPTION^ OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

loved ill return, who was at once the brave soldier, the able 
commander, the sincere friend ; the best soldier and the 
noblest man it was ever our good fortune to serve under. 
It will also recall our brave comrades who sealed their devo- 
tion to their country by their heroic deaths upon the field 
of battle under its folds. I have regarded it as a precious 
and sacred relic ; and, believing I had no right to retain it all 
to myself, have long contemplated presenting it to this asso- 
ciation. I respectfully request my old comrades, through 
you, to accept it as a valuable addition to their store of 
relics ; that they will permit it to grace the hall at their 
annual reunions, and cherish it as a memento of our beloved 
Sedgwick and the old Corps." 

General Sedgwick was killed May 9, 1864, at Spottsylvania. 
He was at the most advanced point of the Union line of 
battle, near a section of artillery at a fatal angle in the 
works, accompanied by members of his staff, and was direct- 
ing the movements of the men then occupying the rifle-pits. 
His manner, attitude and gesture as he stood communicated 
to the enemy that he was an officer of rank and authority, 
though he wore no uniform, not even a sword. From across 
the little valley which separated the Union forces from the 
enemy's line, from one of their sharpshooters concealed in 
the Woods, came the swift messenger of death, which pierced 
his left eye and killed him instantly. 

His body, immediately after death, was placed under a 
bower of evergreens, hastily constructed to receive it, among 
the pine woods, and was laid out upon a rough bier made for 
him by soldiers' hands, and this, his old headquarters flag, 
was thrown over his face. All day long, as he lay upon this 
bier, there came from all parts of the army the old and the 
young, the well and the wounded, officers and men,- to take 
their last look at the beloved chieftain. ' 



DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 27 



Plate II. p^ge 239. 

No. 1.— Flag of the Twenty-First Regiment 
Massachusetts Volunteers. 

The national flag of this regiment is reddened with the 
blood of the brave Sergeant Thomas Plunkett, shed while 
the 21st was charging upon the enemy's works in front of 
Petersburg, December 12, 1862. The regiment was met by 
a terrible storm of shot and shell, and when within about 
sixty rods of the enemy's line Color-Sergeant Collins, who had 
carried the flag through five battles, was struck by a shot, 
and fell. Sergeant Plunkett instantly seized the flag, and 
bore it onward to the farthest point reached by the Union 
troops during the battle, when a shell, coming with fatal 
accuracy from the rebel works, burst over the flag, and 
brought it to the ground wet with Plunkett's blood. Both 
of his arms were shot completely off. Plunkett died in Wor- 
cester, Mass., in 1884, and in honor of his memory this flag 
was taken from the State House in Boston and placed beside 
his coffin, a mute but eloquent reminder of his great sacrifice. 

No. 2. — Flag of the Fortieth Regiment New 
York Volunteers, 

This regiment was organized in the city of New York, and 
left for the seat of war July 4, 1861, with one thousand men, 
splendidly armed and equipped. Its national flag was pre- 
sented by Hon. Fernando Wood, mayor of New York, on 
behalf of the Union Defence Committee. It was one of the 
fighting regiments of the war, and sealed its devotion to the 
nation whose emblem it carried by the loss of nine hundred 
and thirty-six men in battle. Of its color-bearers five were 
killed in battle, four were wounded, and two died of disease. 

Color-Sergeant Joseph Conroy carried this flag into action 
at Fair Oaks, and was killed on that field. Color-Corporal 
Charles Boyle then took the colors, was wounded and ordered 
to the rear, refused to go, and was killed soon after. Color- 



28 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

Corporal George Miller bore it at Robinson's Field, Glendale, 
Malvern Hill, Haymarket, Bull Run, and Chantillj. He 
died of disease. Color-Corporal Alfred Conklin carried it 
at Williamsburg, Fair Oaks and Malvern Hill. He died 
of disease, at Harrison's Landing. Color-Corporal Edwin 
Howard carried it at Bull Run and Chantilly ; was distin- 
guished in all the battles of the regiment, and wounded at 
Fredericksburg. Color-Corporal Oliver P. Bisbing carried 
it at Williamsburg and Fair Oaks, and was killed in the 
last named battle. Color-Corporal John Brundage carried 
it at Williamsburg, Fair Oaks, Glendale, Malvern Hill, and 
Bull Run, and was killed in the latter battle. Private Joseph 
Browne carried it at Haymarket, Bull Run, and Chantilly ; 
was distinguished in eight engagements, and was promoted 
Color-Sergeant. Color-Corporal Robert Grieves carried it 
at Williamsburg, Fair Oaks, and Malvern Hill ; was 
wounded and promoted at Fair Oaks. Color-Corporal 
Thomas Read carried it at Williamsburg, Fair Oaks, Mal- 
vern Hill, Bull Run, and Chantilly; was always distin- 
guished, and was afterwards killed at Fredericksburg. Color- 
Corporal Thomas Braslin carried it at Fair Oaks, and was 
dangerously wounded. Color- Corporal Horatio N. Shepherd 
carried it at Malvern Hill, Bull Run, and Chantilly. Color- 
Corporal Jacob D. Bennett carried it at Williamsburg. 
Color-Corporal William Moyne carried it at Williamsburg, 
Fair Oaks, and Malvern Hill ; and Color-Corporal Joel Slat- 
tery carried it at Malvern Hill, Bull Run, and Chantilly ; was 
afterwards badly wounded at Fredericksburg. 

No. 3. - Flag of the Fourteenth Regiment 
Connecticut Volunteers. 

To tell the story of this flag is to write the history of the 
Army of the Potomac. The regiment saw long and severe 
service, and was everywhere known as the " Fighting Four- 
teenth." It participated in thirty-three battles and skir- 
mishes, besides the long siege of Richmond. This list 
includes all the great battles of the Army of the Potomac 



DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 29 

from Antietam to the close of the war. Its casualties were 
seven hundred and eighty-eight. 

All through Grant's campaign, from the Wilderness to 
Appomattox, the 14th had its full share of work, glory, and 
losses. Its colors are so torn by shot, shell and bullet that 
they cannot be safely unfurled without being supported by 
ribbons. Ninety-one different soldiers held commissions in 
the 14th during its term of service. Three of its field offi- 
cers were brevetted to be brigadier-generals, and several to 
colonelcies. It was a familiar saying that "he who joins 
the 14th will be a captain or a dead man in a year's time." 
Its colors were proudly borne in the battle of Antietam, and 
were passed from hand to hand as their brave bearers fell. 
In this battle the staff of the national flag was shot in two 
by a bullet, and the eagle's head knocked off with a piece of 
shell. Color-Sergeant Thomas J. Mills of New London 
was mortally wounded, and dropped the flag as he fell. Ser- 
geant George A. Foote, Jr., of Guilford, instantly volunteered 
to take it, and carried it the rest of the day. 

At the battle of Fredericksburg, as the regiment charged 
up into the jaws of death on Marye's Heights, Sergeant 
Charles E. Dart of Rockville carried the flag, and fell 
mortally wounded. Again Sergeant Foote attempted to 
carry it, but was shot in the leg and fell. Sergeant Foote 
was a brother of the late Mrs. Gen. Joseph R. Hawley, and 
was one of the most gallant soldiers of the war. Of her 
brother's part in this battle Mrs. Hawley writes : — 

" The color-sergeant fell, terribly wounded, just as the 
regiment had been ordered to fall back. Foote stooped, and 
tried to pick up the flag ; the brave old sergeant held on to 
it, saying, ' I will take care of it,' and suddenly rose to his 
feet, but instantly fell back dead. As Foote stooped to pick 
it up, he was shot in the leg and fell. After lying on the 
field a short time, he tried to rise, but was instantly fired upon 
by the rebels, wounding him slightly in the head and hip. 
All the rest of that awful day he lay still where he had fallen ; 
three times our men charged over him, of course trampling 
on his wounded leg, while he, half-delirious, begged them to 



30 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

kill him to end his sufferings, — but none had time then to 
attend to one poor wounded fellow. 

" That night he managed to crawl off to a little hut near 
the field, where some other wounded men had hung out a 
yellow flag. Here they lay, with a little hardtack and still 
less water, till the third day after the fight, when they were 
visited by a rebel officer with a few men, who spoke roughly 
to them, asking them what they were here for. Foote coolly 
lifted his head, and said, ' I came to fight rebels, and I have 
found them ; and if ever I get well I'll come back and fight 
them again.' 'Bully for you !' said the officer; 'you are a 
boy I like ! ' and at once gave him some water out of his 
own canteen, sent one of his men for more, washed his leg 
and foot, and bound it up as well as he could, paroled him, 
and helped him across the river to the Lacy House hospital. 
In fact, he and his men gave him a blanket, and cheered him 
as the wagon drove off. Foote said afterward, ' I didn't 
know but he would blow my brains out, but I didn't mean 
he should think we were sneaks.' 

" The poor fellow's leg had to be amputated ; and, although 
he was commissioned a lieutenant for his gallantry, he was 
never able to be mustered in, nor did he recover strength to 
survive the war but a few years, dying in 1869." 

After Foote was wounded, the state flag was picked up 
by Private William B. Hincks (afterwards major) and Cap- 
tain Doten, both ot Bridgeport, and by them brought safely 
off the field. 

At Chancellorsville Sergeant Samuel Webster, while car- 
rying the national flag, was wounded in the wrist, and after- 
wards transferred to the Invalid Corps. At Morton's Ford 
battle, in 1864, Sergeafit Amory Allen of Hartford, while 
carrying the national flag, and Corporal Chadwick of Lyme, 
of the color-guard, were killed in a charge upon the enemy 
across the Rapidan. Corporal John Hirst of Rockville 
picked up the flag as Allen fell, and bore it the rest of the 
day. At the battle of Hatcher's Run, Henry Hospodsky of 
Rockville, of the color-guard, was wounded. 

Of the battle of the Wilderness, in 1864, Major Hincks 
writes : — 



DESCRIPTIOX OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 31 

" On the morning of the second day's fight the brigade to 
which the 14th belonged drove back the rebel outposts for 
upwards of half a mile. It being almost impossible to hear 
an order in the horrible din, the adjutant took the color- 
bearer by the shoulder, and, pointing to the trunk of a fallen 
tree, shouted for him to kneel by it. Many officers and men 
of the 14th then rallied around the colors, together with a 
handful from the other regiments, other members of the 14th 
extending the line by deploying as skirmishers, and fighting 
from behind trees, Indian fashion. Corporal Charles W. 
Norton of Berlin was severel}^ wounded at this time, while 
carrying the flag. Later in the day, during an attack by 
Longstreet's corps. Corporal Henry K. Lyon of New London, 
a brave soldier who carried the national flag, was mortally 
wounded. Handing the flag to Lieutenant-Colonel Moore, 
the dying soldier said, ' Take it. Colonel ; I have done my 
best ! ' Colonel Moore gave it to John Hirst of Rockville. 
The regiment at this time was almost surrounded, and in 
danger of being captured, but Sergeant Hirst brought the 
flag safely from the field, and carried it from that time 
through every battle until the close of the war." 

Corporal Robert Wolfe of Waterbury, a member of the 
color-guard, was wounded in this engagement, and subse- 
quently at the battle of Ream's Station. 

At the battle of Gettysburg, the 14th held one of the 
most important positions in the line of the Second Corps, on 
which line the rebel charge spent itself in vain. In this 
battle the 14th charged upon the enemy and captured the 
colors belonging to the 14th Tennessee, 1st Tennessee, 16th 
North Carolina, and 4th Virginia, besides capturing many 
prisoners. 

At the close of the war the flag was carried, amid the 
plaudits of thousands, before the President, at the grand 
review in Washington ; thence it was borne back to old 
Connecticut, to be deposited in its final resting-place at the 
Capitol. 



32 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 



No. 4 -Flag of the Twenty-Fourth Regiment 
Massachusetts Volunteers. 

The flag of this gallant regiment is inscribed with the 
names of twenty-three battles in which it participated. Fur- 
ther than this its history cannot be learned. 



No. 5.— Flag of the First Maine Heavy Ar- 
tillery. 

The 1st Maine Heavy Artillery was in service three years, 
but served in the field only the last year of the war, joining 
the Army of the Potomac near Spottsylvania Court-House 
in May, 1864. The colors were then in charge of Sergeant 
James M. Smith of Ellsworth. He, with eight other non- 
commissioned officers, composed the color-guard. On May 
19, 1864, out of the nine three were killed and four wounded, 
leaving the sergeant and one corporal unhurt. Seven 
men immediately filled their places, and on June 18 follow- 
ing, while storming the enemy's works near Petersburg, 
two were killed, and Sergeant Smith with five others 
wounded, leaving only Corporal Ames, who thus twice passed 
through the furnace of fire, only to be taken prisoner four 
days later. On the above named 18th of June the regiment 
advanced over a level field about seven hundred yards. 
Sergeant Smith fell near the rebel works, with a leg shat- 
tered. Under cover of the smoke from the batteries, he 
quickly rolled up the flag, and, drawing the case from his 
pocket, slipped it over the colors ; then, with the help of the 
staff, he worked himself off the field. Major-General Robert 
McAllister, who witnessed this charge, wrote of it as follows: 
" In all my army experience no scene of carnage and suffer- 
ing is so impressed on my mind as that fatal charge made by 
your regiment on the 18th of June, 1864. . . . The brigade 
moved off, your fine regiment handsomely in the front. You 
went gallantly, not to meet success. That was impossible, 
. . . you were a forlorn hope. In a few minutes out of your 



DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 33 

regiment, which advanced nine hundred strong, six hundred 
and thirty-two were laid low on the battle-field." 

Four days later this regiment formed a part of the 3d Di- 
vision, 2d Corps, which was flanked by the enemy. Intently 
engaged in front, it was suddenly attacked in the rear. The 
line faced about, and immediately, among the thick under- 
growth, the blue and the gray became mixed, lines broken, 
and men fighting in squads ; prisoners were taken and re- 
taken, flags were captured and again yielded up to a superior 
force, the regiment all the while working itself out of the 
thicket. Nobly the color-guard defended their flag, one of 
their number being snatched from the squad a prisoner, until 
they gained a more open space, where they planted their 
standard, around which the regiment rallied and held their 
ground against further attack. 

April 6, 1865, the regiment formed the skirmish line of the 
vanguard of the 2d Army Corps, following General Lee's 
retreating columns. It made seven distinct charges on the 
hastily constructed works of the enemy. Their captures dur- 
ing the day amounted to forty-seven wagons, three pieces of 
artillery, two battle-flags, and three hundred and fifty prison^ 
ers. Sergeant Woodcock, who carried the flag at this time, 
showed such reckless bravery in displaying his colors, always 
a little in advance of the skirmish-line, that the colonel sent 
an orderly bidding him to be more cautious lest the flag fall 
into the enemy's hands. During the war five from the color- 
guard were killed, eleven wounded, and one taken prisoner. 

No 6. — Flag of the First Connecticut Heavy 
Artillery. 

The 1st Connecticut Heavy Artillery was one of the 
largest and most efficient organizations sent to the war 
from Connecticut, and was ranked by military judges as 
the best volunteer regiment of heavy artillery in the field. 
It left Hartford for the seat of war in June, 1861, and soon 
after, by special orders from the War Department, its organ- 
ization was changed to consist of twelve companies of one 



34 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

hundred and fifty men each. It now numbered eighteen 
hundred officers and men, under a high state of discipline. 
It was in service four years and four months, and was splen- 
didly equipped with a siege train of seventy-one pieces of 
artillery, many of them very heavy guns. It took a promi- 
nent part in the siege of Yorktown, and in the series of 
battles at Hanover Court-House, Gaines' Mill, Chickahom- 
iny, Golden Hill, Malvern Hill, siege of Fredericksburg, 
Kelly's Ford, Orange Court-House, siege of Petersburg, 
siege of Richmond, Fort Fisher, etc. 

At Malvern Hill, during the night of June 30, fourteen 
heavy guns were dragged up the steep ascent and occupied 
the highest ground on that battle-field. The guns were 
served with great rapidity and caused tremendous havoc 
amid the enemy's advancing column. 

General McClellan had great confidence in the Connecti- 
cut Heavy Artillery, and Major-General W. F. (" Baldy " ) 
Smith writes : " I saw much of the 1st Connecticut Artil- 
lery during the campaign of 1862, and was surprised at the 
skill and gallantry of its officers and men. During the time 
I commanded the 18th Corps before Petersburg, I called 
heavily upon it for siege guns, and never before during the 
war have I witnessed such artillery practice as I saw with 
that regiment, which has not its equal in artillery firing." 

Its great services were recognized by an order directing 
the names of its battles to be emblazoned on its flag. 



Plate III. p^ge 329, 

No. i.-Flag of the Thirteenth Regiment Il- 
linois Volunteers. 

This flag is stained by the life-blood of Patrick Reilly, 
color-sergeant, who was killed at Ringgold Gap, November 
27, 1863. He was shot through the breast and fell in such 
manner as to be rolled up in the flag. 



DESCKIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 35 

No. 2. -National Flag of the Twenty- Fourth 
Regiment Michigan Volunteers. 

The fatality that attended the color-bearers, officers, and 
men of this regiment at the battle of Gettysburg was very 
great. It had in its ranks on the morning of this memora- 
ble fiofht four hundred and ninetv-six officers and men. It 
lost in killed and wounded three hundred and sixteen. The 
24th was a part of the Iron Brigade, which was the first 
infantry engaged at Gettysburg. It carried into this battle 
only a state flag, which was presented to the regiment by 
the citizens of Detroit. This was carried by Color-Bearer 
Abel G. Peck, a tall, straight, handsome man, and as brave 
a soldier as ever gave up his life for his country. He was 
instantly killed almost at the beginning of the famous charge 
of the Iron Brigade. The flag was then seized by Private 
Thomas B. Ballou, who was desperately wounded immedi- 
ately after, and died a few weeks later. The flag was 
then carried by Private August Ernst, who was instantly 
killed. Corporal Andrew Wagner then took the colors 
and carried them until shot through the breast, from 
the effects of which he died about a year after the close of 
the war. 

When Corporal Wagner fell, Colonel Henry A. Morrill took 
the flag, and gallantly attempted to rally the few survivors of 
the regiment. But Private William Kelly insisted on carry- 
ing it, saying to Colonel Morrill, " You shall not carry the 
flag while I am alive." The gallant fellow held it aloft and 
almost instantly fell, shot through the heart. Private L. 
Spaulding then took the flag from the hands of Kelly, and 
carried it until he was himself badly wounded. Colonel 
Morrill again seized the flag, and was soon after shot in 
the head and carried from the field. 

After the fall of Colonel Morrill, the flag was carried by a 
soldier whose name has never been ascertained. He was seen 
by Captain Edwards — who was now in command of the 
regiment — lying upon the ground badly wounded, grasping 
the flag in his hands. Captain Edwards took the flag from 
3 



36 DESCEIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

him and carried it himself until the few men left of the 
regiment fell back and reached Gulp's Hill. Captain 
Edwards is the only man who is known to have carried 
the flag that day, who was not killed or wounded. 

This grand old flag is no longer in existence. It was so 
riddled and torn with shot and shell that scarcely a square 
foot of it remained intact. The staff was shot and broken 
in pieces also. The men had great affection for the old flag, 
and after the battle of Gettysburg they agreed to cut it up 
and distribute the pieces to the survivors. This was done, 
and to-day in many a Michigan household a small piece of 
faded blue silk is cherished as one of the sacred mementoes 
of the war. The flag shown in the illustration is the 
national color carried by the regiment. 

No. 3. -Flag of the Eighth Regiment Mis- 
souri Volunteers. 

This was the first flag on the parapets of Forts Henry and 
Donelson. It was riddled at Shiloh ; was carried up to the 
breastworks in the charge at Vicksburg ; was upon the 
breastworks at Kenesaw, where the regiment went over the 
works, and changed sides with the rebels, and fought hand- 
to-hand. It led the way in the march to the sea; waved over 
Fort McAllister, and on the flag-staff at Columbia, S. C, and 
Raleigh. It was carried in many battles and skirmishes. 

No. 4.— Flag of the First Minnesota Artil- 
lery. 

History unknown. 

No. 5.- Flag of the Second Regiment Michi- 
gan Volunteers. 

This flag was presented to the regiment by the ladies of 
Niles, Mich., and during the war was followed by no less 
than two thousand one hundred and fifty-one men. Of that 
number three hundred and twenty-one lie buried on southern 



DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 37 

soil. If this old flag, that so many brave men followed to 
the death, could only tell its own story, what a tale it would 
tell of love of country, of patriotism, of glory, of suffering, 
disease, wounds, and death. It was carried through forty- 
four battles and skirmishes, and was the first Union flag to 
enter Petersburg. It was carried in Burnside's " Geography 
Class," from Virginia to Maryland, Kentucky to Mississippi, 
back to Kentucky and Tennessee, and finally back to Vir- 
ginia, there to participate in the closing scenes of the re- 
bellion. 

No. 6. -Flag of the Seventh New York 
Heavy Artillery. 

This flag and that of the 5th New Hampshire were the 
only ones that went over the rebel works at Cold Harbor. 
An officer of the 5th New Hampshire Regiment writes : 

" The 7th New York Heavy Artillery was a very gallant 
regiment. At Cold Harbor both regiments went over the 
rebel works together, and no other colors but those of these 
two regiments were anywhere near that point." Both regi- 
ments, however, were driven out with great loss, but, before 
falling back, captured and sent to their rear about two hun- 
dred and fifty prisoners. The 7th New York Heavy Artil- 
lery also performed splendid service at Ream's Station, and 
covered itself with glory. In this engagement it was re- 
duced to a mere handful. 



Plate IV. page 421. 

CONFEDERATE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

No. 1. — Confederate Battle-Flag Captured 
FROM General Bragg's Rebel Army at Look- 
out Mountain. 

This flag was captured by Sergeant F. N. Potter of the 
149th Regiment New York Volunteers, November 24, 1863, 
in a desperate hand-to-hand fight, from a rebel sergeant, who 



38 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

was disarmed and taken prisoner by Sergeant Potter. The 
latter was soon afterwards wounded, (Now in the keeping 
of the War Department, at Washington, D.C.) 



No. 2. - Confederate Battle-Flag of the 
Forty-second Mississippi Regiment. 

Captured before Petersburg, in a hand-to-hand fight, by 
Corporal Charles H. Dolloff of the 11th Regiment Vermont 
Volunteers. Seeing the furious charge of the Union troops^ 
the rebel color-bearer tore the flag from its staff and 
attempted to destroy it, but was prevented by the quick 
movements of Corporal Dolloff, who captured the flag and 
its bearer. (Now in the keeping of the War Department, at 
Washington, D.C.) 



No. 3.- Confederate Battle-Flag of the 
Twelfth Mississippi Cavalry. 

This flag was captured with its bearer, at Selma, Ala.» 
April 2, 1865, by Private James P. Miller of the 4th Iowa 
Cavalry. (Now in the keeping of the War Department, at 
Washington, D.C.) 



No. 4. -Confederate Blood-Stained Silk Bat- 
tle-flag OF THE Ninth Texas Regiment. 

Captured in battle by Private Orrin B. Gould of the 27th 
Regiment Ohio Volunteers. The 9th Texas Regiment, with 
this flag at their head, charged upon the 27th Ohio. Private 
Gould of the 27th shot down the rebel color-bearer and 
rushed forward for the colors. A rebel offlcer shouted,. 
" Save the colors, men," and at the same time shot and 
wounded Gould in the breast. Gould, with the flag in his 
hands and a bullet in his breast, rushed back to his regiment, 
waving the flag defiantly in the face of the enemy. (Now 
the property of the state of Ohio.) 



DESCRIPTIO]!^ OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 39 

No. 5. — Confederate Battle-Flag of Austin's 

Battery. 

Captured at Columbus, Ga., April 16, 1865, with its color- 
bearer, inside the rebel line of works, by Private Andrew 
W. Tibbetts of the 3d Iowa Cavalry. (Now in the keeping 
of the War Department, at Washington, D.C.) 



No. 6.— Confederate Battle-Flag Captured at 
Malvern Hill. 

Captured July 1, 1862, by Sergeant W. J. Whittrick of 
the 83d Regiment Pennsylvania Volunteers. It was taken 
from a South Carolina regiment, who piled up their dead to 
resist the attack of the Union Brigade. (Now in the keep- 
ing of the War Department, at Washington, D.C.) 

No. 7. -Confederate Battle-Flag, Black (no 
QUARTER), Probably from Texas. 

Captured within the rebel lines near North Mountain, 
Maryland, August 1, 1864. The " Lone Star " in the centre 
of the flag no doubt indicates that it belonged to a Texas 
regiment. (Now in the keeping of the War Department, at 
Washington, D.C.) 

No. 8. -Confederate Silk Battle-Flag. 

Very handsome, and one of the first Confederate flags 
captured in Virginia. It contains the words " For Liberty 
We Strike " in gold letters on the centre stripe. (Now the 
property of Post No. 2, G. A. R., Philadelphia, Pa.) 



40 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 



Plate V. page 443. 

No. 1.— Flag of the First New Jersey 
Cavalry. 

This was one of the first regiments of volunteer cavalry 
that entered the field in the war of the rebellion, and was 
one of the last to leave it. According to the official report 
of the Adjutant-General, this gallant regiment was engaged 
in no less than ninety-seven actions, including many of the 
most noted battles of the war, and this flag was carried 
through ninety-two of them. The regiment was recruited 
three times to the full maximum, and as often melted away 
before the enemy's fire. The flag of a regiment that per- 
formed continuous service, and whose record is one of brill- 
iant achievements, must have a thrilling story ; but all 
efforts to obtain it have proved fruitless. 

In the preface to the " History of the First New Jersey 
Cavalry," wrritten by the chaplain of the regiment and pub- 
lished soon after the war, the following reference is made to 
the flag : — " Though soiled and tattered, it has a glory that 
belongs alone to itself and the men who carried and followed 
it so bravely." Notwithstanding this suggestive statement, 
not a single incident pertaining to the flag is given in the book. 

No. 2. — Flag of the Forty-Eighth Regiment 
New York Volunteers. 

This flag was presented to the regiment by Mrs. General 
Viele, October, 1861, at Annapolis, Md. Part of the staff 
was shot away at Fort Wagner. It was borne in action at 
■Port Royal Ferry, Pocotaligo, Morris Island, and Fort 
Wagner. The regiment was also engaged in the battles of 
Drury's Bluff, Cold Harbor, Petersburg, Chapin's Farm, 
Fort Fisher, and several minor engagements. Of the bear- 
ers of this flag, Sergeant George G. Sparks was wounded 
and transferred to the invalid corps; Corporal G. Vreden- 
berg was wounded and discharged; Corporal James W. 



DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 41 

Dunn was wounded, promoted Captain, and killed at Fort 
Fisher ; and Corporals Alonzo Hilliker, Alexander Hyers, 
and Sidney Wadhams were killed. 

At the battle of Cold Harbor, the 48th lost one flag, not 
through cowardice, but sheer bravery. The color-bearer 
was shot down, and another seized the fallen standard only 
to perish beneath its folds. Then a third man, Color-Ser- 
geant William H. Porch, lifted its proud challenge to the 
foe and planted it upon the parapet, in the very midst of the 
rebel host, where he too died, pierced with bullets, and flag 
and bearer fell together over the parapet, into the arms of 
the enemy. The flag was never recovered. 

Of the death of Sergeant Porch, Rev. A. J. Palmer, D.D., 
who served three years as a private in this regiment, says : — 
" It may be doubted if in the whole history of the Forty- 
eighth a more gallant deed will be chronicled than that of 
the death of Porch. He had been falsely twitted with cow- 
ardice at Drury's Bluff because he had taken the colors to 
the rear, when ordered to do so, when our force retired ; some 
one, who did not know that he was but obeying orders, had 
accused him of showing the white feather. No charge could 
have stung his noble soul more keenly. Porch was a gentle- 
man and a hero. He had been a student at Pennington 
Seminary, New Jersey, and was the first to write his name 
on the roll of Company D. He was an educated, well-to-do 
boy from New Jersey, and his death was a spectacle which 
his comrades ought never to forget. Sergeant John M. 
Tantum * was his bosom friend, and, just as our men reached 
that second line of rifle-pits that bristled with bayonets and 
swarmed with rebels, Tantum cried to Porch, ' Now, Billy, 
show them that you are no coward ! ' To mount that bank 
was instant death, and yet without hesitancy and without a 
single word Porch leaped up the bank alone. He was shot 
by a score of bullets, and, throwing his arms around his flag, 
fell with it into the midst of the foe. Not another man 
followed him — he was left alone there in the keeping of his 
flag and of glory." 

* Sergeant Tantum was afterwards killed at Strawberry Plains. 



42 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

For a regiment to lose its colors in battle is esteemed a 
reproach. In this case it was, on the contrary, a high honor, 
which was recognized at headquarters ; for, although an 
order had been issued that a regiment losing its colors should 
not carry them again for three months, a special order was 
issued permitting the 48th to carry colors immediately. 

No. 3.— Flag of the 150th ("Bucktail") Regi- 
ment Pennsylvania Volunteers. 

This regiment was recruited in the mountain region of 
Pennsylvania, where the deer range, and where every mem- 
ber, before he could be mustered in, was obliged to produce 
the evidence that he had shot a buck, which was the tail of 
the animal. This he wore in the front of his cap when he 
went into battle. The regiment was always designated as 
the " Bucktails." They were known as expert marksmen, 
and were correspondingly feared. 

At the battle of Gettysburg the regiment was posted in 
an orchard, between the Chambersburg pike and the woods 
where General Reynolds was killed. The rebels attacked the 
regiment in great force, but the rapid and accurate fire of the 
" Bucktails," followed by a gallant charge, threw the enemy 
into confusion, and caused them to beat a hasty retreat. 
But the rebels soon renewed their attack with a greatly in- 
creased force and with desperate fury, and poured a destruc- 
tive cross-fire from the woods into the regiment, inflicting 
great loss among the " Bucktails," particularly in the vicinity 
of the colors, causing the line to waver. The regimental flag 
was borne by Sergeant Samuel Phifer, than whom no braver 
soldier ever lived. Colonel Huidekoper ordered him to stand 
fast, and, in tones which rang like a bugle-call, cried, "'Buck- 
tails,' rally on your colors ! " The regiment instantly re- 
formed, and, in spite of the fact that they now numbered 
less than two hundred men, they checked the rebel advance, 
and held the position until they were nearly surrounded, 
when, to escape capture, they fell back to Seminary Ridge. 
In this last desperate struggle Sergeant Phifer gave up his 



DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 43 

life at almost the last moment before the regiment retired, 
dying with his face towards the enemy, his hand waving the 
flag, while his life-blood flowed from numerous wounds. His 
gallantry had attracted the attention of the rebel General 
Hill, as the following extract from the diary of Colonel Free- 
mantle, published in Blackwood'' s Magazine for September, 
1863, will show : — 

" General Hill soon came up. He said that the Yankees had 
fought with unusual determination. He pointed out a field 
in the centre of which he had seen a man plant the regi- 
mental color, around which the regiment had fought for 
some time with great obstinacy, and when at last it was 
obliged to retreat, the color-bearer retired last of all, turning 
around every now and then to shake his fist at the advancing 
rebels. General Hill said he felt quite sorry when he saw 
this gallant Yankee meet his doom." 

Corporal Gutelins, who was now the only member of the 
color-guard unv/ounded, seized and carried the flag. The 
regiment finally abandoned its position on Seminary Ridge, 
and fell back into the town of Gettysburg. Up to this time 
— about four P. M. — the flag was safe, although every mem- 
ber of the color-guard, excepting Corporal Gutelins, had 
been killed or wounded. Gutelins had nearly reached the 
town when he too was struck by a ball. He still insisted 
upon carrying the flag, but in passing through Gettysburg 
became confused, and was separated from the regiment. 
Becoming weak from loss of blood, he sat down for a moment 
on a step to rest, in company with a wounded comrade. In- 
stantly the rebels were upon them, and Gutelins was shot 
dead, with the colors clasped in his arms. Before his com- 
rade could release the flag-staff from Gutelins' dying grasp, 
the rebels had cut off his retreat, and the flag thus fell into 
the hands of the enemy. 

The flag was soon afterwards presented by the rebels, with a 
grand flourish of trumpets, to Jefferson Davis, and was found 
with his effects when he was captured in Georgia, in the 
spring of 1865. At the close of the war, repeated efforts were 
made by Colonel Huidekoper and General Simon Cameron 



44 DESCRIPTIOlSr OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

to secure the return of the flag to the state of Pennsylvania, 
and it was finally transmitted by the Secretary of War to the 
Adjutant-General of Pennsylvania, October 25, 1869, with 
a letter, in which the Secretary says : " I am directed by the 
President to send herewith the flag of the 150th Pennsyl- 
vania Volunteers, said to have been captured at Gettysburg, 
and recaptured with the baggage of Jefferson Davis." The 
flag is now deposited, with the other tattered ensigns of the 
state, in the Capitol at Harrisburg. 

No. 4.— Flag of the Eighty-Third Regiment 
Pennsylvania Volunteers. 

In May, 1861, Governor Curtin addressed a message to the 
Legislature of Pennsylvania, informing that body that the 
"Society of the Cincinnati of Pennsylvania" had presented 
to him the sum of five hundred dollars, to be used towards 
arming and equipping Pennsylvania soldiers. The governor 
asked that the manner of its use should be directed by 
statute. 

The " Society of the Cincinnati " was originally composed 
of surviving soldiers of the Revolution, who pledged lasting 
friendship and aid to each other. Washington was at its 
head, and Mifflin, Wayne, Reed, and Cadwalader were mem- 
bers of it. The gift thus tendered to the state of Pennsyl- 
vania was accepted by the Legislature for the state, and was 
devoted to the purchase of a battle-flag to be carried at the 
head of one of the Pennsjdvania regiments. 

The flag thus acquired was presented to the 83d Regiment 
Pennsylvania Volunteers, and was presented to them while 
in camp at Hall's Hill, Va., by Hon. Edgar Cowan, United 
States senator from Pennsylvania, who represented Gov- 
ernor Curtin on this occasion. 

This flag was borne in the most desperate fighting at 
Gaines' Mill, where the commander of the regiment was 
killed. A few days later, at Malvern Hill, the 83d held a 
vital point in the line, and lost one hundred and forty-four 
men in the struggle. Corporal Ames, the color-bearer, was 



DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-ELAGS. 45 

killed by a bullet, which at the same time pierced and splin- 
tered the flag-staff. The flag fell, and he fell upon it. It 
was picked up by Sergeant Alexander Rogers, who waved it 
over his head and gallantly advanced to the front of the 
regiment. During the most desperate fighting Sergeant 
William Wittich of the 83d, seeing one of the enemy's 
battle-flags lying upon the field, in advance of our lines, 
dashed out and secured the flag. For this act of heroism he 
was promoted to a lieutenancy, by order of General Porter, 
commanding the corps. 

Sergeant Rogers bore the old flag gloriously through a 
dozen bloody fights, and was finally killed in the first day's 
battle in the Wilderness, on the 5th of May, 1864. Finally, 
a new staff, and eventually a new flag, took the place of the 
old. It was still, however, the same valor-inspiring emblem, 
and wherever its star-lit folds could be discerned amid the 
smoke and carnage of the fray there gathered the true and 
tried hearts, whose every beat was responsive to its safety 
and honor. 

In the battle of Laurel Hill, on the 8th of May, 1864, 
the 83d was ordered to storm intrenched works strongly 
held by the enemy. The charge was fearlessly made, and 
some of the men succeeded in crossing the enemy's works, 
where they fell to bayoneting the foe ; but the odds were 
too great, and the regiment was forced to fall back, with a 
loss of over one hundred and fifty in killed and wounded — 
some of the bravest and most daring going down in this ill- 
advised charge. The flag on this occasion was carried by 
Corporal Vogus, who had rescued it when Sergeant Rogers 
fell at the Wilderness, three days before. While the regi- 
ment was charging up to the breastworks, he received a 
severe wound in the side, and fell with the flag. Corporal 
John Lillibridge of the color-guard immediately seized it, 
and was about to carry it forward when Vogus recovered 
and, again taking the flag, pressed forward and planted it 
on the breastworks of the enemy. In a few moments after- 
wards he was shot through the breast. Fearing that the 
flag might be captured, and more careful for it than for him- 



46 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

self, he seized it while he was in the act of falling, and 
hurled it to the rear, where it was caught by Corporal Dan 
Jones. Jones was shortly after wounded himself, and, while 
getting off the field, handed the flag to a soldier of the 44th 
New York, and it was soon afterwards returned to the reg- 
iment. 

The number of battles in which this flag was carried, as 
published in orders and recorded in the Official Army Reg- 
ister of 1885, is twenty-five. 

No. 5. — Flag of the Ninth Regiment New 
Jersey Volunteers. 

Color-Sergeant George Myers carried this tattered flag 
at Roanoke Island, Newbern, Southwest Creek, Kingston, 
Goldsboro, Walthall, Drury's Bluff, Cold Harbor, Peters- 
burg, and in every campaign and battle in which the 9th 
New Jersey participated. Myers was a brave soldier, and 
this flag always waved in the thickest of the fray. 

In the unequal battle at Drury's Bluff, Va., May 16, 1864, 
Myers had a narrow escape. Under cover of a dense fog a 
division of rebels suddenly burst upon the Union line, and, 
although they met with a withering fire from the New Jer- 
sey Riflemen, and were four times hurled back in confusion 
and dismay by the terrific volleys thrown among them, it 
was at last evident that the Union line must give way. The 
9th New Jersey had lost most of its officers and men, when 
suddenly the exultant rebels burst in upon the survivors 
with redoubled fury, determined to be avenged for the ter- 
rible injuries inflicted upon them. Sergeant Myers, undis- 
mayed, and calm and collected as if on parade, seeing him- 
self and a few comrades surrounded by the enemy, with 
scarcely a hope of escape, stripped from the staff the silken 
shred, which had been his inseparable companion for years, 
and, hastily buttoning it within the folds of his blouse, 
grasped a rifle, and, calling upon those near him to follow, 
dashed through the advancing line of rebels, dealing heavy 
blows for life and liberty, and thus escaped capture and 
saved the flag. His clothing was perforated with bullets. 



DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 47 



No. 6. — Flag of the IOSth Regiment New 
York Volunteers. 

This flag was presented to the regiment by the ladies of 
Le Roy, Genesee County, N. Y., and was carried in many 
battles. Seven color-bearers were killed or wounded while 
carrying it. It bears the marks of many bullets and a piece 
of shell, and its staff was cut in two by a ball. The regi- 
ment was engaged in nine battles before it had been in the 
field nine months. 



Plate VI. fxqk 597. 

No. 1. - Flag of the Fifth Regiment New 
Hampshire Volunteers. 

Over two thousand two hundred men were enrolled in 
this regiment during its three years' service. It lost over 
half the command in six different engagements. At Gettys- 
burg, every fifth man of the number engaged was killed or 
mortally wounded. Its casualties in action, during its terra 
of service, were appalling. Its first flag — which had upon 
it the blood-stains of three men, one a captain — was worn 
out at Fredericksburg. In this battle the regiment was first 
in line, and its dead were found nearer the enemy's position 
than those of any other troops. The flag was carried in this 
battle by Color-Sergeant Reuel G. Austin, who was wounded, 
and it was then carried by Sergeant George S. Gove, who was 
also wounded. The flag was then seized by Sergeant John 
R. McCrillis, who carried it off the field at the close of the 
day. 

During the battle Captain James B. Perry, a most gallant 
officer, was shot in the breast and mortally wounded. It 
was impossible to take him to the rear under the terrific fire 
then raging, so he was cared for by his comrades where he 
lay. Turning to a brother-officer, the wounded soldier said, 
"I know I shall not recover from this wound, but I am 



48 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

content if I can see the old flag once more." The flag was 
brought to him, but his sight had failed and he could not see 
it. Its folds were put in his hands, and, pressing the banner 
to his lips, he murmured his farewell to it and to his com- 
rades at the same time, and died with the flag in his grasp. 
The flag carried by the fifth at Gettysburg was one of a 
second set presented to it. In this battle seven men were 
killed or wounded with this flag in their hands. 

No regiment fought more valiantly, and few, if any, were 
in a greater number of desperate battles. Its history is sad 
but glorious. Wherever the Army of the Potomac met the 
enemy, there lie the bones of the 5th New Hampshire. 

No. 2. — Flag of the First Rhode Island 
Cavalry. 

Rev. Frederick Denison, chaplain of the 1st Regiment 
Rhode Island Cavalry, relates the following story of this 
flag: — 

" Color-Sergeant G. A. Robbins (Troop I., 1st Cavalry 
R. I.), finding that capture was inevitable, stripped the reg- 
imental standard from the staff, broke the staff and threw 
it away. Opening his bosom, he wrapped the colors about 
his body, and so concealed them. He was captured, but on 
his way to Richmond, after a number of days, escaped and 
found his way back into our lines. Finding at length the 
headquarters of the broken but brave and honored regi- 
ment, he reported for duty, and then drew from his breast 
the loved and precious flag — an act that drew tears of grat- 
itude and admiration from all beholders, and shouts of ap- 
plause from his brave comrades, and won instantly for him a 
lieutenant's commission." 



No. 3. — Flag of the Sixteenth Regiment 
Connecticut Volunteers. 

The 16th Connecticut Infantry Regiment was thrown into 
the hottest of the battle at Antietara, a brave but undisci- 



DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 49 

plined and imdrilled body of men, but twenty days from 
home. The regiment came out of this battle with a loss of 
two hundred and thirty-eight in killed, wounded, and miss- 
ing. Subsequently it followed the fortunes of the Army of 
the Potomac, and saw service at Fredericksburg under Burn- 
side, and participated in other engagements, finally being 
ordered to Plymouth, N. C. 

Plymouth was a fortified post defended by a line of earth- 
works and by a fleet of Union gun-boats anchored in the 
river. Sunday evening, April 17, 1864, the picket line of 
the regiment was driven in by the rebels, and this attack 
was followed by a heavy artillery fire and an unsuccessful 
assault upon the earthworks. During the night the rebels 
brought their troops into position, and the light of morning 
showed they had completely invested the place with an 
overwhelming force. The Union troops consisted all told 
of only sixteen hundred men fit for duty. This force was 
surrounded by three brigades of rebel infantry — Hoke's, 
Ransom's and Kemper's — sixteen regiments in all, with 
eleven batteries of field artillery and two companies of cav- 
alry, the entire force amounting to over thirteen thousand 
men, the choicest troops of Lee's army. They were aided 
by the rebel ram Albemarle, which drove off and sunk the 
fleet of wooden gun-boats in the river and poured a destruc- 
tive fire into the Union camps. For three days the federal 
troops defended the garrison with the utmost gallantry, but 
one redoubt after another was carried by the rebels, until on 
Wednesday morning, April 20, it was evident that the 
Union troops could hold out but a few hours longer. All 
demands for surrender had thus far been met with refusal. 
After the last flag of truce from the enemy had returned to 
their lines bearing a refusal to surrender, a tremendous fire 
of musketry and artillery was opened on the Union line; 
the rebels fairly swarmed over the last line of breastworks, 
and poured into the Union camps with the confidence of 
victory near at hand. At an angle in the breastworks they 
captured a portion of the artillery and turned the guns on 
the Union forces, by this act cutting the 16th Connecticut 



50 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

in two, part of the men, with the color-guard, being on one 
side, and a part, with some of the field officers, on the other. 
At this juncture, with every hope of escape destroyed, sur- 
rounded by nearly ten times their number, Lieutenant- 
Colonel Burnham shouted to the color-guard : " Strip the 
flags from their staffs and bring them here." To tear each 
flag from its staff was the work of a moment; but who 
should carry them across a field five hundred feet, through 
that merciless hail of grape and canister? It required 
brave men, and they were not wanting. Color-Sergeant 
Francis Latimer took the national color, Color-Corporal Ira 
E. Forbes the state flag, and, crossing the most exposed part 
of the field, safely delivered them to Colonel Burnham. 
Corporal Forbes then returned and brought back the flag of 
the 101st Pennsylvania Regiment. The only thought now 
was to save the colors from cajDture. An attempt was made 
to burn them, and was partially successful. What was left 
was torn into small pieces and distributed among members 
of the regiment near at hand, who at once concealed them 
on their persons. 

Hardly had the flags been disposed of and the last pieces 
distributed, ere the defenders of the garrison found them- 
selves prisoners of war. The rebels demanded the colors 
and were greatly chagrined at not obtaining them. Believ- 
ing them to be concealed, they made a thorough but unsuc- 
cessful search for them. 

The Union soldiers captured in this engagement were 
incarcerated in various southern prisons, most of them at 
Andersonville, where they suffered untold horrors. The 
16th lost more men at Andersonville and other rebel prisons 
than any other Connecticut regiment. Nearly two hundred 
of this regiment alone — or nearly one-half of the entire 
number captured — died in Andersonville. No words can 
describe their terrible sufferings. A large number of the 
survivors died soon after the war, of disease contracted 
in those fearful pens. Few if any of those now living 
are free from the life-long effects of horrible starvation 
and exposure. All through the terrible days of their 



DESCRIPTIOX OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 51 

imprisonment the little patches of the old flag were carefully 
guarded and preserved by those to whom they were in- 
trusted. 

After the war a beautiful white silk flag was procured for 
the regimental organization. A meeting of the survivors 
was held, and the little shreds of the old flag were assembled 
from widely scattered sources and sewed together in the 
form of a shield and scroll, and these were sewed on the 
centre of the new white silk flag. 

A year after the close of the war the rebels were so 
determined to find the missing colors that they ploughed up 
the ground covered by the camps of the Union forces and 
levelled the breastworks at that end of the town, believing 
the flags had been buried by our men. The}^ found nothing 
to reward them but the flag-staffs, which had been thrust 
into a hole under the breastworks. 

One of the flags of the 16th was an elegant state flag 
which was presented to the regiment by the Sharps Rifle 
Manufacturing Company, Hartford, and had an inscribed 
silver shield on its staff, with the name of the donors. 
After the flag was stripped from its staff, torn up and passed 
around, this silver shield was removed by Color-Sergeant 
Latimer and hastily secreted in the lining of his dress-coat. 

All through his long imprisonment Sergeant Latimer 
carefully guarded this cherished relic ; but when exchanged 
and presented with clean clothes at Annapolis, in his delight 
at getting rid of his dirty, vermin-filled rags, he threw them 
on the lively pile accumulated from those ahead of him in 
line, utterly forgetful of the silver shield sewn into the lapel 
of his old coat. His grief was great when he discovered his 
loss ; but it was too late, and the shield was forever lost. 

No. 4. — Flag of the Fifty-Fourth (Colored) 
Infantry Regiment Massachusetts Volun- 
teers. 

The 54th Massachusetts was a brave regiment of colored 
troops, commanded by Colonel Robert G. Shaw, a man of 
refinement and gentle manners, and brave as a lion. The 
4 



52 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

national flag carried by this regiment was the gift of 
certain young colored ladies of Boston, and was presented 
to the regiment by the great war governor, John A. 
Andrew, after a speech full of eloquence and deep feel- 
ing, and passed from his hand to that of Colonel Shaw. 
It was the only national flag carried by the regiment 
during its terra of service, and was borne in the follow- 
ing actions : — James Island, July 16, '63 ; assault of Fort 
Wagner, July 18, '63 ; siege of Fort Wagner, July 18, 
Sept. 7, '63; siege of Charleston, 1863, '64, '65; battle of 
Olustee, Feb. 20, '64 ; James Island, July 2, '64 ; Honey Hill, 
Nov. 30, '64 ; Devaux's Neck, Dec. 9, '64 ; and Boynkins 
Mills, April 18, '65. 

The 54th led in the terribly fatal assault upon Fort Wag- 
ner, on the night of July 18, 1863, and the flag of the regi- 
ment was the object of the most determined bravery. The 
attack, although a failure, was signalized by unsurpassed 
daring, and thousands of men were sa"crificed. The fort was 
surrounded by a moat filled waist-deep with water. Behind 
this rose a great bank twenty-five feet in height. Before the 
assaulting columns were formed, a storm arose, and it grew 
suddenly dark. It was about eight o'clock when the word 
of command was given to the 54th, who led the charge six 
hundred and fifty strong, commanded throughout by white 
officers. Colonel Shaw's last words as the regiment moved 
forward on the double-quick were, *"' We shall take the fort 
or die there." The charge was made with magnificent cour- 
age. As the troops approached the ditch, they met a wither- 
ing fire. The garrison outnumbered them two to one. 
Before that murderous fire of grape, shrapnel, and musketry, 
the intrepid regiment of black men wavered, broke, and fled. 
Some followed their brave colonel through the ditch, and up 
the bank behind it, among them Color-Sergeant William H. 
Carney, who planted the flag in the most gallant manner 
upon the ramparts, and there maintained it until all hope of 
taking the stronghold was abandoned. There Colonel Shaw 
was shot through the heart, and fell back dead in the ditch, 
and many of his brave colored soldiers died by his side. 



DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 53 

Most of the color-guard were killed or wounded. Finally 
Carney retired through the ditch, filled with dead and 
wounded, in the darkness, toward the federal lines, amid the 
storm of bullets and cannon-shot, and was wounded while 
doing so in the breast, both legs, and the right arm ; but he 
struggled on, crawling on hands and knees, with the flag, 
until some distance from the fort. Here, at a point where 
Captain Luis F. Emilio was engaged in rallying the 54th, — 
he having succeeded by casualties to the command of the regi- 
ment on the field of battle, — the flag was brought to him, 
and, as it would serve no purpose in the darkness as a rallying- 
point, he directed the gallant Carney to take it to the rear. 

A more ghastly scene was never witnessed than that on 
the slope and around the ditch of Fort Wagner the next 
morning. The dead and dying were piled on one another 
three feet deep, and the rebels claim to have buried over one 
thousand Union soldiers on the beach the next day. Colonel 
Shaw was buried " in a pit, under a heap of his niggers," but 
it was not in the power of the rebels to dishonor him. 

At the battle of Olustee this flag was borne with conspic- 
uous gallantry by Acting Sergeant James H. Wilkins, who 
escaped miraculously, though more than half the color- 
guard were killed or wounded, and the color-corporal (with 
the state flag) was mortally wounded at Wilkins' side. 

Ever after this flag was carried with bravery and devotion 
by Sergeant Charles W. Lenox, who escaped severe wounds, 
but was frequently struck by spent balls or shot through his 
clothing. 

No. 5. - Flag of the First Vermont Cavalry. 

It is to be regretted that no history of this flag is at hand. 
Its tattered and smoke-stained folds are eloquent with the 
names of glorious battles, from Mount Jackson to Cedar 
Creek. No soldiers performed more valiant service in the 
war of the rebellion than did the Green Mountain boys. 
Not a single flag did they surrender to the enemy during the 
four years of the rebellion. 



54 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 



No. 6.— Flag of the Twentieth Regiment 
Massachusetts Volunteers. 

The most diligent inquiry has failed to discover the story 
of this flag. It is inscribed with the names of no less 
than twenty-six battles. 



Plate VII. page 625. 

Old Abe, the Famous War Eagle of the 
. Eighth Regiment Wisconsin Volunteers. 

This famous bird was captured in Upper Wisconsin in 
1861 by a Chippewa Indian, and was presented to the 8th 
Wisconsin when that regiment left for the seat of war. One 
of the tallest men of the regiment was detailed to carry and 
take care of him, with th^ understanding that at the end of 
the war he was to convey him to Washington and present 
him to President Lincoln. He was usually carried on a 
war shield, mounted at the top of a staff, and above this 
shield a perch was made to which Old Abe was tied by a 
cord. For three years he was carried beside the colors of this 
regiment, and during that time he was in twenty-two battles 
and thirty skirmishes, and was wounded in three of them. 
At the battle of Corinth, it is said, the rebel General Price 
ordered his men to capture or kill him at any hazard, saying 
that he would rather have them capture the eagle of the 8th 
Wisconsin than a dozen battle-flags; and that if they suc- 
ceeded he would give his troops " free pillage in Corinth." 
During this battle the cord that confined him to his perch 
was severed by a ball, and Old Abe soared far above the 
sulphurous smoke. The rebels sought in vain to shoot him. 
Suddenly he caught sight of his regiment and flag, and, 
sweeping down, alighted on his perch. During a battle he 
was sometimes on the ground, then on his perch, uttering 
wild and terrific screams, and the fiercer and louder the 



DESCRIPTIOIS" OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 55 

storm of battle the more excited was he. He would stand 
by a cannon, which was being served with the greatest rapid- 
ity, without flinching, and the rattle of musketry had no 
terrors for him. 

With the close of the regiment's period of service. Old 
Abe's fighting days were over, and he became the ward of 
the state of Wisconsin, to be "well and carefully taken care 
of as long as he lived," and his remarkable civil career was 
then begun. He made numerous triumphant journeys 
through the country, always proving a great attraction. 
His feathers were eagerly sought for at 810.00 each. Thou- 
sands of children throughout the North — from Maine to 
Oregon — were organized into a society, called " The Army 
of the American Eagle," for the purpose of selling a little 
pamphlet history of Old Abe's career, with his photograph, 
and their labors netted to the fund for sick and disabled 
soldiers the sum of 116,308.93. More than twelve thousand 
letters were received from boys and girls interested in this 
ingenious device for raising money for the soldiers. At this 
time a western gentleman offered |10,000 for him, and P. T. 
Barnum offered $20,000 ; but mone}^ could not buy him. A 
distinguished sculptor made a marble statue of him ; and 
while Old Abe was on exhibition in Boston a celebrated 
artist painted his picture in oil, which still hangs on the 
walls of the Old South Church in that city. 

On all his journeys he received a constant ovation. During 
the Centennial Exhibition, the Wisconsin legislature author- 
ized the governor to detail a veteran soldier at state expense 
to take Old Abe to Philadelphia and care for him during the 
exposition. He was constantly surrounded by throngs of 
visitors, and his photographs were sold by the thousand. 
His fame had long before spread over Europe, and foreign- 
ers were greatly interested in him. Some of his feathers 
are now owned and prized by eminent persons, many of 
whom purchased them at round figures. A New York gen- 
tleman has one mounted in gold, and many important docu- 
ments have been signed with pens made from Old Abe's 
quills. No other bird ever achieved such fame or reached 
such a distinguished place in history. 



56 DESCKIPTIOX OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

Old Abe died in 1881, and his preserved and stuffed body 
may now be seen in the War Museum at the state capitol in 
Madison, Wis. 



No. 1. — Flag of the Ninth Regiment Iowa 
Volunteers. 

The 9th Iowa Regiment entered the service in August, 

1861. At the battle of Pea Ridge, Ark., March 7, 1862, 
after a most extraordinary march of forty-tivo miles, the 
regiment displayed great valor and was engaged for ten 
hours in stubborn fighting, losing two hundred and thirty- 
seven men killed and wounded. But they held their ground 
against fearful odds, and that night they slept upon their 
arms, ready to re-form their lines at a moment's warning. 

Five months after this battle the regiment received a 
handsome silk flag from some ladies of Boston, Mass., and 
the following comments on the presentation of this flag to 
the regiment are taken from Lieutenant-Colonel Abernethy's 
journal : — 

" Camp 9th Iowa, near Helena, Ark., Sunday, August 3, 

1862. — The regiment was formed at 2 P.M. to receive the 
stand of beautiful colors sent by a committee of ladies of 
Boston, Mass., as a testimonial of their appreciation of our 
conduct at Pea Ridge. Colonel Vandever delivered a short 
speech at the presentation and seemed much affected, as did 
many others present, at the respect and honor thus mani- 
fested by the noble women of a distant state, and at the 
associations connected with the occasion." 

This flag was guarded and cherished with religious care, 
and was borne over many a field of blood. 

On the 22d of May, at Vicksburg, in line with the whole 
Army of the Tennessee, the regiment led the assault. Its 
flag went down a few feet from the rebel works after the 
last one of the color-guard had fallen, either killed or 
wounded. In the few terrible moments of this assault the 
regiment lost seventy -nine killed and wounded, or nearly 
one-third of their number, in action. The assault failed, and 



DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 57 

the Union soldiers found themselves lying in ravines, behind 
logs, close up to and partly under the protection of the 
rebel earthworks. There they were compelled to lie until 
darkness gave them a cover under which to escape. Ser- 
geant Elson had fallen, frightfully wounded, upon the flag. 
Captain George Granger drew its dripping folds from under 
the bleeding body of its prostrate bearer, and after dark 
brought it safely off the field, concealed beneath his blouse. 

Eight other brave boys followed up the flag as color-guard 
in that memorable assault, namely : — Corporals Otis Craw- 
ford, Lewis D. Curtis, Zadoc Moore, Albert D. Strunk, James 
H. Gipe, Jasper N. Moulton, John Logue, and James Smith. 

Though covered with blood, and riddled by both shot and 
shell, the flag was afterwards safely carried through the 
second siege of Jackson, and the battles of Brandon, Chero- 
kee Station, Tuscumbie, Lookout Mountain, Missionary 
Ridge, and Ringgold, besides more than a score of lesser 
engagements. It travelled two thousand miles of Confeder- 
ate soil, traversed six states in rebellion, went up to the 
cannon's mouth at the heights of Vicksburg, clambered up 
the rocky steep of Lookout Mountain, stood on the brow of 
Missionary Ridge on that bleak November night after the 
great battle of Chattanooga, in the midst of those shivering, 
hungry, and tired soldiers, and at last was no longer fit for 
service. 

At this time the members of the regiment re-enlisted in a 
body for another "three years or during the war," and by 
unanimous vote the old flag was placed on the retired list 
and returned to the original donors in Massachusetts. 

One month later, while the regiment halted for a day at 
Nashville on its way home on a thirty days' veteran fur- 
lough, another silk flag was received from the same commit- 
tee of Massachusetts ladies, to take the place of the old one. 

In connection with the extract previously quoted from 
Lieutenant-Colonel Abernethy's journal, the following in- 
teresting story, by Miss Phebe Adam, explains how it- hap- 
pened that a committee of Massachusetts ladies presented flags 
to the 9th Iowa Regiment. In a recent letter she says : — 



58 DESCRIPTION or THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

"It seems to me that I ought to explain how it happened 
that Massachusetts women were interested in sending flags 
to an Iowa regiment. My brother, McG. Gordon Adam, 
who went from Massachusetts and was engaged in the prac- 
tice of law at Decorah, Iowa, when the war of secession 
began, enlisted as a private soldier in Company H, 9th Iowa 
Infantry. In a home letter, shortly after the battle of Pea 
Ridge, he wrote to us that the regiment had not in that 
battle a flag to rally round, and added, ' Will not some of 
my Massachusetts friends send us one ? ' 

"As soon as this was known among his Boston friends, 
they determined to supply the want, and the money to pro- 
cure one came in so abundantly that not only a flag but a 
standard was sent to the regiment, reaching it while stationed 
at Helena, Ark. Colonel Vandever was asked by the donors 
to permit Private Adam to unfurl and present the colors on 
behalf of his Massachusetts friends ; but my brother was 
too ill with fever, at the time, even to witness the presenta- 
tion. The box was, however, opened by the side of his sick- 
cot, and the colors were unfurled for him to see them. This 
brief account of the flags will show that, although carried 
out in Massachusetts, the idea of our sending them was sug- 
gested by Private McG. Gordon Adam, and his name rather 
than that of his sister should be forever connected with 
them. 

" In a letter written during convalescence with regard to 
the presentation of the flag, my brother writes : — 

" ' How disappointed you and my friends at home will be 
that I could not unfurl the colors and address the regiment 
in your behalf. I was not able to sit up when the flag ar- 
rived, and shall not be strong enough to go through with 
such an affair for a month, perhaps. I wrote a line to Col- 
onel Vandever, telling him that I was too ill to comply with 
the kind wish of the ladies. He wrote me that he would 
delay the presentation if I wished it, but I wrote him not to 
wait^as the time of my recovery was very uncertain, and I 
did not wish to .deprive the regiment for so long a time. 
Colonel Vandever then sent me word that he would send 



DESCRIPTION^ OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 59 

through me a formal written acknowledgment of its recep- 
tion. I have talked with a great many officers and men of 
the regiment, who came to see me while I was ill, and I will 
tell you what I have heard through them of the presenta- 
tion, as I know how anxious you will be about it. As soon 
as the flags were unfurled and the address of the donors was 
read by the adjutant. Colonel Vandever read a printed reply, 
copies of which were delivered to the regiment. When he 
got to the last paragraph he choked for several moments, and 
three-fourths of the regiment were in tears. Not a single 
cheer was given for the flag at this time. What with the 
address and the reply, and the surprise at so splendid a testi- 
monial from far-off Massachusetts, the men and officers were 
so affected that an attempt to cheer Avould have been a total 
failure. But when the colors were planted near the colonel's 
tent, the boys collected round them and cheered like mad- 
men. Nothing could have a better effect on the regiment 
than this gift. The men were dispirited by their continued 
privations, because many of them, like myself, have never 
seen a paper in which their conduct at Pea Ridge received 
anything but the ordinary newspaper praise bestowed on the 
whole army. The poor fellows were surprised and delighted 
to find that they are understood and appreciated away off in 
old Massachusetts. 

'"Your gift has infused a fresh spirit into the men. They 
look brighter and happier, and would die to the last man 
before the colors should fall into the hands of the rebels. I 
should like to write more, but am too weak to do so.' 

" On the 29th of August, 1863, the flag was returned to 
us, accompanied by a letter from Colonel Carskaddon, then 
in command of the regiment. It showed the hard service it 
had been through, for it was torn and blood-stained, or, I 
should say, is torn and blood-stained, as it is preserved in 
our own home as a precious relic of the war. 

"Colonel Carskaddon says at the close of his letter: 'We 
return this flag to you, because it has fulfilled the mission 
on which you sent it. Beneath it many a martyr to consti- 
tutional liberty has gone to his last rest. It is to us, and 



60 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

we trust it will be to you, the emblem of an eternal union 
cemented by the best blood of patriots.' 

" When the regiment returned to Iowa on its veterans' 
furlough, the flag created a perfect furor in Dubuque. Peo- 
ple hurrahed and cried over it. It was very difficult to pre- 
serve it from destruction, as everybody was trying to obtain 
a little piece of it as a relic of the fight in which some father, 
son, or brother served, perhaps was wounded or killed. Only 
one old lady got a piece. She begged the colonel, with tears 
in her eyes, to give her a small piece, as her two sons had 
fallen under it. 

" After the battle of Vicksburg, my brother wrote to me 
as follows : ' The poor old 9th has been put in the front 
again at Vicksburg and suffered dreadfully. Your flag has 
been baptized by the blood of many a brave fellow. I had 
hoped that it would be the first to be planted on the hills of 
Vicksburg, for the 9th went farther than any other regiment 
and stood for two hours within twenty feet of the enemy's 
guns, but they were not sustained, and the remnant of the 
brave little band was at last compelled to fall back. During 
the assault, which was so bloodily repulsed, our color-bearer 
got on top of the enemy's works, and, being a little ahead 
of the boys who were clambering up the acclivity, he stuck 
the flag-staff firmly into the ground and cheered the men on 
to protect it. The brave fellow was shot down, and our 
charging party was almost annihilated and driven back. The 
color-sergeant had fallen on the flag, with a bullet through 
his thigh ; his blood is on it. Afterwards each of the color- 
guard successively, excepting one, was shot down. We were 
oblio-ed to lie close until dark, and, when the retreat com- 
menced. Captain Granger took the flag along. It is riddled 
with balls and stained with blood, and unfit for further use. 
The boys are discussing whether to send it back to you, or to 
the governor of Iowa.' " 



No. 2.- Flag' OF the Second Kansas Battery. 

History unknown. 



DESCKIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 61 



No. 3.— Flag of the Second Kegiment Wis- 
consin Volunteers. 

The 2d Wisconsin Regiment was a portion of the Iron 
Brigade of the West, of which General McClellan said, 
" They are equal to the best troops in any army in the 
world." 

In the battle of Antietam the entire color-guard of this 
regiment was killed or wounded ; but the flag was safely 
brought off the field. 

At the battle of Gettysburg the first volley received from 
the rebel line cut down nearly thirty per cent of the regi- 
ment, and out of thirty-three men in the color company 
twenty-three were killed or wounded in thirty minutes. 
When the last color-bearer was killed, Private R. E. Davi- 
son picked up the colors and rushed to the front with 
them, and bore them in advance of the regiment in the 
charge of the Iron Brigade, shouting to the boys to " come 
on." For gallantry on this occasion he was made sergeant. 
The regiment went into this battle with three hundred men 
and in half an hour lost one hundred and sixteen in killed 
and wounded. That night there were but fifty of the three 
hundred men left to answer roll-call. In these and subse- 
quent battles the flag was riddled and torn by bullets, the 
flag-staff was often shot and was once cut entirely in two. 
At Gettysburg it was so badly rent and torn that it was sent 
home and placed in the state capitol, and a new one was 
provided by the state. 

The following interesting statement is taken from a letter 
recently received from Private R. E. Davison : — 

" At the battle of Antietam we had a full color-guard ; 
they were all killed or wounded. When the last one fell, I 
picked up the national colors and carried them. I did not 
have them more than five minutes before I was wounded by 
a minie-ball in my right shoulder, that put an end to my 
operations on that day. After I was wounded, I turned the 
flag over to a man belonging to Company C, who already 



62 DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

had the state colors. He told me afterwards that he carried 
both flags the rest of the day, and was not wounded. The 
next time the flag came into ray hands was at the battle of 
Gettysburg. Our color-guard was not full at this time. We 
had one sergeant and one corporal as color-bearers, and two 
corporals as guards. In the first of the fight the color-ser- 
geant and guards were killed or wounded, and as the flag 
went down I sprang forward and caught it, and carried it 
through the rest of the fight. Captain Rollins made me a 
sergeant on the field, and I was complimented in general 
orders. I carried the flag from that day until the regiment 
was discharged, in 1864. In the seven days' fight in the 
Wilderness the flag-staff had two or three bullet-holes put 
through it while in my hands, and I know not how many 
holes through the flag." 

No. 4. -Flag of the Seventh Regiment Mis- 
souri Volunteers. 

The 7th Missouri Regiment carried an American and an 
Irish flag side by side. The Irish flag (shown in the illus- 
tration) was a beautiful silk one, and was presented to the 
regiment by Surgeon P. S. O'Reilly and a few other friends. 
It was carried through many battles, including Corinth and 
the siege of Vicksburg. 

The first two boats that ran the gauntlet of the rebel bat- 
teries at Vicksburg carried the 7th Missouri Regiment. 
While these boats were passing the batteries, Color-Sergeant 
Fitz-Gerald defiantly waved the flag at the enemy. On the 
22d of May the regiment stormed the rebel fortifications at 
Vicksburg, making a most gallant charge. It reached the 
rebel works (Fort Hill), when Private Patrick Driscoll 
raised a scaling-ladder and held it while Color-Sergeant Fitz- 
Gerald, with the Irish flag in his hands, bravely ascended. 
Fitz-Gerald reached the top of the works, and triumphantly 
waved the flag, but was instantly shot dead. Another sol- 
dier seized the flag and ascended the ladder only to suffer 
the fate of his predecessor. Eight men were killed in a few 



DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE-ELAGS. 63 

minutes under this flag, during this memorable assault. The 
regiment finally fell back, bringing its flag with it. 



No. 5. -Flag of the Second Regiment Kansas 
Volunteers. 

" This was the only Federal flag on the battle-field of Wil- 
son's Creek, when General Lyon was killed. Three color- 
bearers were killed or wounded while carrying it. It was 
finally carried from the field blood-stained, bullet-marked, 
tattered and torn." 

This statement, pinned to the flag, is perhaps the only 
history that will ever be written of it, for the reason that 
the men who carried it were killed, and most of the officers 
and men who supported it are either dead or cannot be 
found. The flag is made of bunting, and the blood-stains 
are plainly discernible upon it. It is now deposited in the 
state capitol at Topeka. 

No. 6. — Flag of McMullen's First Indepen- 
dent Ohio Battery. 

History unknown. 



Plate VIII. page 657. 

No. i.-Flag of the Seventy-Eighth Regi- 
ment Ohio Volunteers. 

Thirteen members of the color-guard who defended or 
carried the regimental colors during the period of service of 
the 78th were killed or wounded. In the battle of Atlanta. 
July 22, 1864, Color-Sergeant John Spring, who held aloft 
the flag, was shot dead. He fell in the road in front of the 
line of battle, with the flag tightly clasped in his arms. 
Sergeant John F. Kennedy, and his comrade Joe Brown, 
seeing the flag about to be taken by the enemy charging the 



64 DESCKIPTION OF THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

line, rushed out of the ranks, and, rolling the dead body of 
Spring off the flag, safely returned with the standard to the 
regiment. Sergeant W. Sutton then carried the flag, and 
was wounded in both thighs, and died shortly after. Ser- 
geant James C. Aerick then took the flag, and was mortally 
wounded. Later in the same battle, while the flag lay on 
the ground by the side of its dead defender, a rebel rushed 
forward and had nearly succeeded in capturing it, and was 
stooping over for the purpose, when Captain John Orr com- 
pletely decajDitated him with his sword. For saving the flag 
on this occasion he received a gold medal from the Board of 
Honor of the Army of the Tennessee. The flag was carried 
through the rest of the battle by Sergeant Russell Bethel, 
who was slightly wounded. 



No. 2. -Flag of the Seventy-Eighth Regi- 
ment Pennsylvania Volunteers. 

This flag was carried through the campaigns of the Army 
of the Cumberland, including the battles of Stone River, 
Chickamauga, the Atlanta campaign of 1862, battle of Nash- 
ville, etc. At the battle of New Hope Church, Georgia, 
May 27, 1864, while the regiment was under a heavy fire, a 
soldier of the 19th Ohio became separated from his regiment 
and attached himself to the 78th. While gallantly perform- 
ing his duty a shell completely decapitated him, and dashed 
his head against the flag of the 78th, staining it with his 
blood. 

No. 3. — Flag of the Thirty-Second Regiment 
Indiana Volunteers. 

This flag was carried through many battles, including Shi- 
loh, Stone River, Chickamauga, Mission Ridge, the Atlanta 
Campaign, Resaca, Peach-Tree Creek, Siege of Corinth, and 
many minor engagements and skirmishes. It is part of the 
regimental history that the first four color-bearers were 
killed while carrying the flag at the head of the regiment, 



DESCRIPTION or THE BATTLE-FLAGS. 65 

each man being shot through the head. Tlie o2cl Indiana 
was composed of Germans, and this flag was presented by 
German ladies of Indianapolis. The staff has two bullet- 
holes in it. 

No. 4.— Flag of the Ninth Regiment Ken- 
tucky Volunteers. 

In the battle of Stone River the color-bearer of this flao- 
was instantly killed, and the flag fell to the ground. Moses 
Roark, a mere boy, instantly picked it up, and bravely carried 
it through the battle. He was promoted to color-sergeant, 
and carried the flag through every engagement in which the 
regiment afterwards participated. 

No. 5. — Flag of the 129th Regiment Illinois 
Volunteers. 

Color-Bearer Frederic D. Hess carried this flag in the 
charge upon the rebel works at Resaca, and was one of the 
first upon the enemy's breastworks, where he stood erect 
amid the rain of shot and shell, and waved the flag to cheer 
his comrades on. While holding it in his right hand a ball 
shattered the arm, but he immediately raised the falling col- 
ors with his left, which soon shared the fate of his right arm ; 
but with his bleeding stumps he still clung to the flag, stain- 
ing it with his life-blood. 

No. 6. — Flag of the Eighteenth New York 

Cavalry, 

Known as the " Corning Light Cavalry." History un- 
known. 




1. The Mississippi Steamer "Fanny OonEN" on her way with Relief for Sick 
AND Wounded Soldiers. 



2. On the Way to Antiktam with Hospital Supplies. 




CHAPTER I. 

THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR— THE SPIRIT OF 1861 — FIRST 
CALL FOR VOLUNTEERS — UPRISING OF THE NORTH — EX- 
CITING SCENES AND INCIDENTS. 

In Boston with my dying Father — His early History — Surrender of Fort 
Sumter — Uprising of the North — President Lincoln's Call for 
Seventy-five Thousand Troops — Their Rendezvous in Faneuil Hall 
— Departure of the Massachusetts Sixth for Washington — Scenes 
at the Boston and Albany Station — Interview with Mr. Garrison 
and Wendell Phillips — The Massachusetts Sixth attacked in Balti- 
more — War Scenes in Auburn, N. Y. — My Return to Chicago — 
Impressive Scenes in the Republican Wigwam. — Cairo, 111., a 
strategic Point — North and South hasten to seize it — Chicago 
Troops arrive first and take Possession — Increased Preparations for 
War — Washington carefully guarded — Defeat at Bull Run — The 
North nerved to Power and Purpose — The South exultant in Self- 
Confidence — Lines now sharply drawn between loyal and disloyal 
States 85 



CHAPTER II. 

LOYAL WOMEN OF THE NORTH — THEIR PATRIOTISM AND 
DEVOTION — HEROINES OF THE BATTLE-FIELD — HOME- 
WORK AND RELIEF SOCIETIES — SCRAPING LINT AND 
ROLLING BANDAGES. 

The Patriotism of Men paralleled by that of Women — Notable Exam- 
ples — Testimony of President Lincoln — Blunders of Inexperience 
— The Havelock Mania — A Woman Soldier in the Nineteenth Illi- 
nois — Sent out of Camp, she attempts Suicide — Is rescued and 
joins her Husband — Madame Turchin, Wife of the Colonel — Her 
Bravery and military Skill — Her Ability as a Nurse — She defeats a 
Court-Martial — Other military Heroines — Annie Etheridge of the 
Third Michigan — Bridget Devens of the First Michigan Cavalry — 
5 67 



68 CONTENTS. 

Kady Brownell of the Fifth Rhode Island — Georgianna Peterman, 
the Wisconsin Drummer-Girl — Army Stories of military Women — 
Bandage and Lint Craze — Local Relief Societies — Queer Assort- 
ment of Supplies — Cars flooded with fermenting Goodies — Great 
Waste and Loss — Liberality of the People continues — Wiser 
Methods are devised 109 



CHAPTER III. 

AT THE FRONT — WRETCHED HOSPITAL ARRANGEMENTS — 
THE SANITARY COMMISSION — ITS OBJECT, METHODS, 
AND WORK — BATTLE-FIELD RELIEF. 

Early Ignorance and Inefficiency of Officers — The Cause of Sickness 
and Death in Camp — Letters from the Front in Proof — Fearful 
Mortality of British Soldiers in the Crimea, in 1855 — Occasioned by 
similar Causes — Local Relief Societies organized — New York 
Women show practical Wisdom — The Sanitary Commission evolved 
from their Methods — Plan of Organization drawn up by Dr. Bel- 
lows — Sanctioned by the President and Secretary of War — The 
Commission soon conquers all Prejudice — Its Work very extensive 

— Inspectors sent to Camps and Hospitals — Monographs prepared 
on the Hygiene of the Army — Portable "Soup-Kettles" — "Hos- 
pital Cars" — Forty Soldiers' Homes — Claim, Pension, and Back 
Pay Agency — " Hospital Directory " — "Battle-field Relief Service " 

— Ten "Branch Commissions" — Relief rendered at Shiloh and 
Antietam — The Supplies, or Money for their Purchase, Made or 
Collected by Women 123 



CHAPTER IV. 

MY FIRST CONNECTION WITH THE SANITARY COMMISSION— 
HOME SUPPLIES FOR THE SOLDIERS — A PEEP INTO THE 
BOXES— LETTERS FOUND INSIDE — ODD CONTRIBUTIONS. 

Local Societies merged in the Commission — Become identified with the 
Chicago Branch — The Secrets of the Boxes of Supplies — Notes 
packed in with the Clothing — They are tender, pathetic, heroic, 
and comic — A letter- writing Army — "Consecrated Chicken, be 
jabers! " — " Butter an' Chase, bedad! " — " Comfort-bags " — 
" Benedictions " in the Murfreesboro' and Yicksburg Boxes — " One 
Box a Month" — Ingenious Wisconsin Farmers' Wives — Women 
in the Harvest-field — A Talk with them — Generosity of a "Tail- 



CONTENTS. 69 

oress" — The "five-dollar gold Piece" — "Matches! Matches!" — 
Afraid of a Kiss — Children's sanitary Fairs — Gift of a five-year 
old Boy 135 



CHAPTER V. 

AT THE EOOMS OF THE SANITARY COMMISSION — ITS WORK- 
ERS AND ITS VISITORS — HEART-RENDING SCENES AND 
INCIDENTS — THE RECORD OF A DAY. 

Rooms of the Chicago Commission — The Din of Draymen and Packers 
— Sewing-Rooms for Soldiers' Families — "The Perfume of the 
Sanitary" — The dingy little Office — Immense Work performed in 
it — Judge Skinner, the President — Mr. Blatchford, Treasurer — 
The "Quartette" of the Office — John Freeman, the "Man of all 
Work" — William Goodsmith, our "Sheet-Anchor" — Mrs. Hoge, 
my Friend and Co- Worker — Volunteer and transient Help — 
Women, Girls, and Soldiers — Drayloads of Boxes — Ladies seeking 
Information — Express Messengers — The Morning Mail — The aged 
Father and his dead Son— "What ails the little Fellow?" — A 
Bevy of Nurses — A sorrow-stricken Mother — Soldiers from the 
City Hospitals — More loaded Drays — More Men and Women come 
and go — The Day declines— Retiu-n to my Home — "A Suburb of 
Heaven" 155 



CHAPTER VI. 

A CAMPAIGN PLANNED BY A WOMAN — DESPERATE BATTLES 
— TERRIBLE SCENES ON THE BATTLE-FIELD — TERRIFIC 
FIGHTING AND APPALLING SUFFERING — THE AGONIES 
OF WAR. 

General McClellan supersedes General Scott — Missouri becomes the 
Field of Battle — General Grant wins a Victory at Belmont — Fleet 
of "Ironclads" for Service on Southern Rivers — The "Tennessee 
Campaign" planned by Anna Ella Carroll, of Mainland — Plan 
adopted by President Lincoln and Secretary Stanton — Carried out 
by General Grant — The "Court of Claims," in 1885, decides in her 
Favor — Fort Henry on the Tennessee captured by Gunboats — They 
fail to take Fort Donelson on the Cumberland — General Grant 
attacks by Land — The Fort surrenders, after Three Days' Fighting 
■ — "Unconditional Surrender Grant!" — Joy of the Northwest — 
Frightful Suffering of the Wounded — Many frozen to Death on 
both Sides — The People move to succor the Wounded — Immense 
Quantities of Supplies forwarded — Seven thousand Prisoners sent 
to Camp Douglas — Five hundred die 171 



70 CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VII. 

AFTER THE BATTLE — MY FIRST EXPERIENCE IN A MILITARY 
HOSPITAL — A DEATHLY FAINTNESS COMES OVER ME — 
NERVING MYSELF FOR THE WORK — TOUCHING SCENES. 

Mrs. Hoge and myself visit the Hospitals of St. Louis — Our first Expe- 
rience — Boisterousness of new Recruits — The grim Silence of Men 
who had " heen under fire " — Our remarkable Hostess — Conspicu- 
ous and unflinching Loyalty — Her " Hospital Kitchen " and " Hos- 
pital Wagon " — " Eleven Hundred Soldiers' Letters ! " — The Don- 
elson Wards — Their sickening Odor and ghastly Sights — Horrible 
Mutilation of the Men — A deathly Faintness came over me — The 
Wounded and Dead robbed on the Field of Battle — Plucky Fellow 
— "They couldn't be bothering with us" — "Afraid to die!" — 
"Send for a Methodist Minister!" — The Magic of Song — The 
mental Conflict of the Night that followed — St. Louis sitting in 
Gloom — Sad Wedding in the Hospital — Death of the Bridegroom . 184 

CHAPTER VIII. 

I BECOME ACCUSTOMED TO HOSPITAL WORK — FILTH AND 
DISCOMFORT, NEGLECT AND SUFFERING — LEAVES FROM 
MY EXPERIENCE — MESSAGES FROM THE DYING TO LOVED 
ONES AT HOME. 

Cairo an immense Basin, partially filled — Skilful Pilotage needed — 
Comfortless Hospitals — " My Wife came this Morning " — " Bring 
me a drink from the Spring" — The "Brick Hospital" a Marvel 
of Excellence — "Sisters of the Holy Cross" its Nurses — The 
young rebel Prisoner — Longing for his Mother — "Philip Sid- 
neys" in every Hospital — Mary Safford my Companion the second 
Time — Her Method of Work — Her Memorandum Book and Bas- 
kets — Something for every one — " You are the good Fairy of the 
Hospitals" — Men crying for Milk — Mourning the Loss of 
"Mother Bickerdyke "— Wounded Soldier from "Island No. 
Ten"— Noble Letter from his Wife — "The Children needed 
him more than I" — Eulogy of Mary Safford — Her Career since 
the War — Prof essor in the Boston University School of Medicine . 201 

CHAPTER IX. 

AWAITING THE BATTLE OF SHILOH — PREPARATIONS FOR 
THE WOUNDED — AWFUL SLAUGHTER — VARIED PHASES 
OF HOSPITAL LIFE — "MISSING." 

A Perfect Military Hospital— "Mother Angela," the Lady " Superi- 
eure" — "White-winged Sun-bonnets" — Battle of Shiloh — Ap- 



CONTENTS. 

palling Slaughter on both Sides — Rebel Prisoners' Ward — " You- 
uns is very good to we-uns!" —The Rebel Surgeon's Fear — Meet 
an Old Acquaintance among the Rebel Wounded — The Valiant 
Eleventh Illinois— Great Prejudice against Protestant Nurses — 
The "Sisters" preferred — " They never see anything, nor hear 
anything, and tell no Tales!"— Good General Strong, Post Com- 
mander at Cairo — Am sent to St. Louis for Invalid Soldiers — 
Turner's "Descriptive List" Missing — Found in the Clerk's Office 
— General Curtis discharges him — He also furloughs young 
Brackett — Great Jollification in the Ward — They accompany me 
to Chicago 



71 



217 



CHAPTER X. 

THE DARKEST PERIOD OF THE WAR — MY VISIT TO WASH- 
INGTON IN 1802 -STRANGE EXPERIENCES ON THE JOUR- 
NEY—PITIFUL SCENES IN A CONVALESCENT CAMP. 

Woman's Council called in Washington — Mrs. Hoge and myself the 
Chicago Delegates — Darkest Period of the War — Am detained at 
Suspension Bridge — A Restless Crowd in the Waiting-room — A 
blind Vocalist Charms them to Quietness — Homeward-bound 
Invalid Soldiers on the Trains — Repulsive Instrument of Slave 
Torture — Trains going North from Washington packed with f ur- 
loughed Soldiers — President Lincoln's Explanation — " The War 
to be ended by Strategy !"— We take in our Charge a sick Soldier 
— New Experience in Baltimore — Visit to Dorothea Dix — Her 
extensive Work — Superintendent of Women Nurses — Washington 
Soldiers' Home — Amy Bradley the Matron — " Solid Chunks of 
Sunshine " — Visit Alexandria — " Camp Misery" — "A perfect 
Golgotha " — Great Indignation of Visitors — Amy Bradley takes 
up her Abode in the Camp — Great Improvement follows — "The 
Soldiers' Journal" — We visit President Lincoln 232 



CHAPTER XI. 

LIFE IN A CONTRABAND CAMP — WASHINGTON IN 1865 — A 
CONTRABAND PRAYER MEETING — MY INTERVIEW WITH 
SECRETARY STANTON — THE DRUMMER-BOY OF THE 
EIGHTH MICHIGAN. 

Fugitive Slaves rejoicing in Freedom — Prayer-meeting in Camp — Meet 
old "Aunt Aggy" — An Episode of Slavery —" Thar' s a Day 
a-comin' ! " — Lively Praying —Tempestuous Singing — Intense 
Sectarians — A Boy Philosopher — Visit Washington in 1865 — Great 
Changes — Deserters from the Enemy — Runaway Negro with a 



72 CONTENTS. 

Six-Mule Team — Courtesy and Kindness of Secretary Stanton — 
Meet Admiral and Mrs. Farragut — Their Simplicity and Geniality 

— Lieutenant Gushing, the Hero of the Ram Albemarle — Other 
Eminent Notabilities — The Drummer Boy of the Eighth Michigan 

— Enlists with his Teacher — Gharlie petted by all — His Teacher 
and Captain shot at James Island — Fierce Life of the Eighth 
Michigan — Charlie shares it All — Struck by a chance Shot — 
Fatal Result 257 



CHAPTER XII. 

A TRIP DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI — AMONG THE SICK AND 
DYING — OUR MISSION AND STORES — LOVING MESSAGES 
FROM HOME — A BRIDE'S SONG FOR A DYING SOLDIER. 

The Army encamped at Young's Point — They cut the Levees — Great 
Sickness results — Special Relief Corps sent down —Mrs. Colt, of 
Milwaukee, and myself attached to the Corps — Our Programme — 
Outfit — Some of the Messages entrusted me — Our wheezy Boat — 
Disloyal Officers — Musical Talent on Board — Singing in the Hos- 
pitals — Touching Episode — Scene in a Memphis Hospital — 
"Mother, don't you know your Boy?" — Our Headquarters in 
Memphis, at Gayoso House — Women Secessionists — To be sent 
within Confederate Lines — A stormy Interview — ^' Alloios me to 
be at large ! " — We embark on the Tigress for the lower Mississippi 
— A dreary Journey 280 



CHAPTER XIII. 

ALONG THE DREARY RIVER — SAD SIGHTS IN A REGIMENTAL 
HOSPITAL — JOLLY BATTERY BOYS— I AM WELCOMED TO 
CAMP BY OLD FRIENDS. 

Perils of the lower River — The Tigress and its disloyal Officers — The 
Stewardess a Virago — "I could throw you overboard as if you 
were a Cat! " — Lake Providence and its fathomless Mud — " The 
Sanitary Commission's got mired! " — Go down to Milliken's Bend 
— Distribute Supplies to Hospitals — Sorry Plight of a Wisconsin 
Regimental Hospital — Surgeon-General Wolcott, of Wisconsin, 
breaks it up — In the Camp of the Chicago Mercantile Battery — 
"What a Hubbub! What a Jubilee!" — Evening Prayers 
in Camp — The Boys get Breakfast — "The Victuals will taste 
better if you don't see the Cooking!" — Leave for Young's 
Point — General Grant's Despatch Boat Fanny Ogden gives 
me Passage 295 



CONTENTS. 73 



CHAPTER XIV. 

OPPOSITE VICKSBURG — ARRIVAL AT GENERAL GRANT'S 
HEADQUARTERS — MY INTERVIEW WITH HIM — MY PETI- 
TION—A TOUCHING STORY. 

We call on General Grant — Reticent, patient, and persistent — We put 
ourselves on "short Rations" of Talk with him — Stories of his 
Intemperance foul Calumnies — His chivalric Defence of General 
Sherman — Am entrusted with a Variety of Errands to him — My 
Decision concerning them — Second call alone on General Grant — 
"The Gibraltar of America" — The General is very accessible — 
Not hedged aboi;t by Formalities — The most bashful Man I had 
ever encountered — "I will let you know To-morrow " — Discharges 
twenty-one invalid Soldiers, and gives me Transportation for them 
— One dies in Memphis — Another dies in Chicago, almost Home . 308 



CHAPTER XV. 

I AM INSTALLED HEAD COOK IN A FIELD HOSPITAL — CHEER- 
ING UP THE "BOYS" — CAPRICIOUS APPETITES — MY RIDE 
WITH BLACK SOCRATES —VICKSBURG. 

Large Field Hospital at Young's Point — Am put in Charge — Cater 
to the capricious Appetites — "Tea and Toast" for a forty-five- 
year-old "Boy" — "Tea! tea! tea! from the homespun Teapot" 

— Lemonade under Difficulties — Men transferred to Hospital 
Steamer City of Memphis — Visit to the Thirteenth Illinois — 
"Socrates" and his Six-Mule Team — " Mi;les is dat mean dey 
has ter be licked!" — Accomplishments of the Thirteenth Illinois 

— "The stealing Regiment" — Accompany the Engineer Corps 
down the Levee — Peep into Vicksburg with a powerful Glass — 
No sign of Home-Life -^ Rams Lancaster and Switzerland run the 
Blockade — One destroyed, the other disabled 319 



CHAPTER XVI. 

COMING UP THE RIVER — A FREIGHT OF LIVING MISERY — 
GOING OUT FROM THE LAND OF BONDAGE — AMONG SICK 
SOLDIERS, CONTRABANDS AND REFUGEES. 

A forward Movement — Gunboats run the Vicksburg Batteries — They 
convey Transports down the River — Troops cross and beleaguer 



74 CONTENTS. 

Vicksburg — We take Passage in the Maria Denning for Cairo — 
The Boat packed with human and animal Misery — Sick Soldiers 
comforted by our Presence — Johnny, the Virginia Refugee, given 
to my Care — His History — The tempestuous " Praise-meetings " 
of the Contrabands tabooed — Refugees encamped on the River 
Bank — Signal the Boat to stop — The Captain dares not — Fears 
Treachery — Meet Ford Douglas at Lake Providence — Agree to 
take a slave Boy to Chicago, despite Illinois "Black Laws " . . . 339 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE STORY OF THREE LITTLE ORPHANS — SMUGGLING A 
PLANTATION WAIF THROUGH "EGYPT" — THE UNDER- 
GROUND RAILROAD— SAFE AT LAST — AFFECTING MEET- 
ING. 

We imd three Orphan Refugees in Camp Convalescent, Fort Pickering 
— Their pitiful History — We take them to the Chicago Home of 
the Friendless — Adopted by an Iowa Family — Cairo makes Addi- 
tion to our Cares — Lizzie the Orphan Refugee from Missouri — Go 
aboard the Chicago Sleeper, with Johnny and the black Lad — The 
stuttering Porter hides the black Boy — "D-d-d-dat AVoman's slep' 
mighty little fo' mos' s-s-s-six Weeks " — " She's d-d-d-done got mon- 
st'ous sick " — We defy " Egypt " and the " Black Laws " — Reach 
Chicago at Midnight — Sunday Morning, himt up the black Lad's 
Mother — Affecting Meeting — Sarah Morris tells her Story — 
Johnny and Lizzie cared for 356 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

OUR BATTERY BOYS — A SECRET DRILL — THE DISCOVERY — 
OFF TO THE FRONT — GOD-SPEED AND FAREWELL TO MY 
SUNDAY-SCHOOL BOYS — EXTRACTS FROM THEIR DIARIES. 

Our Church in Chicago — The Morale of its young Men — Memories of 
the Past — A loyal Congregation — What happened at Evening Ser- 
vice — Sudden Disappearance of our young Men — A peculiar Sound 
from the Sunday-School Room — Tramp ! Tramp ! Tramp ! — We 
stealthily open the Door and peep in — Our Discovery — " We have 
all decided to enlist" — An unspoken Prayer — All but two of our 
young Men are mustered into the Chicago Mercantile Battery — 
The Grief of Parting — Solemn Consecration — An affecting Fare- 
well — Extracts from their Diaries — A jolly set — Roughing it 
without Whining — The Art of Frying Cakes — "Sweet Times 
here" — The Siege of Vicksburg — Awaiting the Battle — Army 



CONTENTS. 75 

Life at the Front — " Spoiling for a Fight " — Ordered into Action 
— We keep up Communication with our Boys — A Country devas- 
tated by War — An unexpected Visitor 369 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE STORY OF OUR BATTERY BOYS COISTTINUED — A DISAS- 
TROUS EXPEDITION — A TRAP OF DEATH AND DESTRUC- 
TION—SCENES OF HORROR— THRILLING ACTS OF BRAVE- 
RY AND DEVOTION. 

Changes among our Boys — Breaking down under the Hardships of 
War — The Battery constantly s-hifts its Encampment — Working 
hard to kill Time — The Humorous Side of Life in Camp — History 
of "Doggie Doggett," the Canine Member of the Battery — His 
Exploits and Unknown Fate — Lost in the Service — Unfortunate 
Expedition — Up the Red River — Charging the Enemy with a 
Baggage-Train — Our Boys fall into a Trap of Death and Destruc- 
tion — A terrific Charge by ten thousand Rebels — Overpowered 
by superior Numbers — Retreat or Surrender the only Alternative — 
The Guns of the Battery captured — Death of Lieutenant Throop 
— Sergeant Dyer shot while spiking his Gun — Many of our Boys 
are taken Prisoners — Hugh Wilson's Devotion — Only eight of 
our Boys return at the Close of the War 387 



CHAPTER XX. 

THE FIRST GREAT SANITARY FAIR — RAISING MONEY FOR 
HOSPITAL RELIEF — A GREAT AND MEMORABLE DAY — A 
MOTLEY PROCESSION THREE MILES LONG. 

Continued Needs of the Hospitals lead to a great Sanitary Fair — A 
Woman's Enterprise from the Beginning — Large Preparations — 
Seventeen Bushels of Fair Circulars and Letters sent at one Mail 

— Mrs. Hoge obtains Help from Pittsburg and Philadelphia — Pot- 
ter Palmer from New York — Boston and Connecticut contribute — 
The whole Northwest ransacked for Attractions — At last, Men 
catch the Fair Mania — Their varied Gifts — Opening Inaugural 
Procession — Captured rebel Flags borne along — School Children 
in Carriages and Omnibuses — Convalescent Soldiers from Hospitals 

— Procession of Farm Wagons, with Vegetables — Procession halts 
on the Court House Lawn — Firing of thirty-four Guns announces 

the Opening of the Fair 409 



76 CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

STOKY OF THE GREAT FAIR CONTINUED — ITS SIX HALLS — 
PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S DONATION — UNEXAMPLED EN- 
THUSIASM —" GOD BLESS THE FARMERS." 

Profusion of Wares and rapid Sales — Daily Excursion Trains — Presi- 
dent Lincoln donates the Manuscript of the Proclamation of Eman- 
cipation — Large Quantities of Food sent from the Country to the 
Dining-Hall — How Dubuque furnished her Quota of Supplies — 
Picturesque Scene — Hall erected for Donations of Machinery — 
Our Bargain with the Builder — A Revelation and its Results — 
County Court Room transformed into a " Curiosity Shop" — Rebel 
Flags, and Battle Trophies — Slave Shackles and Collars — Large 
Loan Collection of Art Works — Anna Dickinson's Lectures — 
Dinner to Northwestern Governors, Congressmen, and other Digni- 
taries — Gift of Live Stock — Auction Sales on the Sidewalk . . 427 



CHAPTER XXII. 

LAST DAYS OF THE GREAT FAIR — SOLDIERS' DAY — TOTAL 
RECEIPTS NEARLY ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS — 
INTERESTING ITEMS AND INCIDENTS. 

Dinner given by the Ladies to eight hundred invalid Soldiers in Hos- 
pitals — Lady Managers dined by Gentlemen, who serve the Feast 

— Mighty Frolic — " Completely tuckered out ! " — Items and Inci- 
dents — Afghan made with Money found in a dead Soldier's Pocket 

— Contraband's Gift — Donation of Octogenarians — Mite of the 
German Woman — The Luck of the Chickamauga Soldier — Major- 
General Herron of Iowa in the Fair — Letters of Gratitude from 
Soldiers in Hospitals — "Must see that Fair" — "All I have" — 
Safe place of Retreat — Pleasant Greetings — "A Soldier's Psalm 
of Woman" — Cheers for Lincoln — Cheers for the Soldiers — 
Cheers for the Ladies of the Sanitary Commission — Specimen of 

the Soldiers' Battle-cry — The Dead 450 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

SHERMAN'S MARCH TO THE SEA — DEATH-BLOW TO THE RE- 
BELLION— SURRENDER OF LEE— ASSASSINATION OF PRES- 
IDENT LINCOLN — THE MARCH OF EVENTS. 

The End draws near — Sherman's March to the Sea — He finds the 
Southern Confederacy a Shell to be easily crushed — Much Anxiety 



CONTENTS. 77 

felt at the North for the Result — He takes Savannah, with its 
immense Stores, and informs the President of his Gift — The 
South surprised — English Journals prophesy Failure — Reaches 
the Atlantic Coast — Co-operates with Grant and Lincoln — Rich- 
mond evacuated — Lee surrenders — Delirious Joy of the Nation — 
Characteristic Procession improvised in Chicago — Lincoln assassi- 
nated — Joy swallowed up in passionate Sorrow — Disbanding of 
the Army — Motley Treasures brought Home by Soldiers — Eager 
to reach Home — Gladness of the Nation at the Return of Peace . 463 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

MOTHER BICKERDYKE — STORY OF A REMARKABLE WOMAN— 
HER MOTHERLY CARE OF THE "BOYS IN BLUE"— HOS- 
PITAL SIGHTS AND SCENES — ON THE BATTLE-FIELD AT 
NIGHT. 

A remarkable Woman — Sent into the Service at Cairo by Ladies of 
Galesburg, 111. — Improvises a sick-diet Kitchen — Stratagem to 
detect the Thieves who steal her Delicacies — " Peaches don't seem 
to agree with you, eh?" — Colonel (now General) Grant removes 
the dishonest Officials — Mother Bickerdyke after the Battle of 
Donelson — A Surgeon's Testimony — She extemporizes a Laundry 
— Is associated with Mrs. Porter of Chicago — After the Battle of 
Shiloh — "I get my Authority from the Lord God Almighty; have 
you anything that ranks higher ? " — Her System of foraging — Her 
"Night-Gowns" as hospital Shirts — "Say you jerked them from 
the Secesh, Boys!" — Experiences at Corinth — Finds a dying 
Soldier left in a Tent 476 

i 

CHAPTER XXV. 

THRILLING INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF MOTHER BICKER- 
DYKE— HER HOSPITAL EXPERIENCES — HER FIRST FUR- 
LOUGH—RETURN TO THE FRONT — FIGHTING THE DOC- 
TORS—A COW-AND-HEN EXPEDITION. 

She is much worn down — Extremely Perilous to remain longer with- 
out Rest — Her Health demands a Respite from her Labors for a 
Time — Comes to my House on her Furlough — Attends a Wed- 
ding — "Have enjoyed your Wedding as if it were a Prayer- 
Meeting!" — Calls Meetings to raise Supplies — Returns to the 
Front, organizes and regenerates Hospitals — Re-organizes her 
Laundries in Memphis — Quarrels with the Medical Director — Out- 
generals him — "One of us two goes to the Wall, and 'taint never 
me!'' — The Storm finally ends in Sunshine — They become 
Friends — He sends her North on a Cow-and-Hen Expedition — 



78 CONTENTS. 

Returns with a hundred Cows, and a thousand Hens — Improved 
Condition of the Hospitals — Confided in everywhere — Impatient 
of Ked Tape — Cared little for Sect, but much for the Comfort of 
the Soldiers 499 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

MOTHER BICKERDYKE AND GENERAL SHERMAN — A NIGHT 
OF HORROR — HEROIC EFFORTS TO SAVE THE WOUNDED 
FROM FREEZING — HEART-RENDING SCENES AND TERRI- 
BLE SUFFERING. 

Mother Bickerdyke's Idolatry of General Sherman — She becomes an 
Attachee of his Corps — Comes to Chicago and does good Work 
for Soldiers' Families — Goes to Chattanooga after the Battle, and 
establishes a Hospital — Incredible Exertion to save her Patients 
from Freezing — Orders Breastworks torn down for Fuel — "All 
right, Major, I'm arrested! Only don't meddle with me till the 
Weather moderates!" — General Burnside beleaguered m Knox- 
ville, Tenn. — Sherman marches to his Relief — Fearful Suffering 
from Cold and short Rations — Horrors of the Return Route to 
Chattanooga — Railroad from Nashville completed at last — Joyful 
Welcome of the first Train — All Night in the icy Gale — She ran 
from Tent to Tent — She encouraged the shivering Soldiers — Her 
Name mentioned only with Tears 515 



CHAPTER XXVn. 

STORY OF MOTHER BICKERDYKE CONCLUDED — FOLLOWING 
THE FLAG IN THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN — HER MOTH- 
ERLY MINISTRATIONS IN THE MIDST OF BATTLE — HER 
LIFE AND CAREER SINCE THE WAR. 

Mother Bickerdyke makes an eloquent Speech — Disregards Sherman's 
Orders, and calls on him. Obtains the Favor she seeks — Six 
Months in the Rear of Battles — Death of General McPherson — 
Sherman begins his March to the Sea — Mother Bickerdyke packs 
all Hospital Supplies, and sends to Nashville — Goes to meet Sher- 
man, with a Steamer loaded with Supplies, as he directed — They 
are not needed, and she cares for the Andersonville Prisoners — 
The War ends, and she returns to Louisville — Her Life since the 
War — The Government grants a pension to her — The Soldiers do 
not forget her — Her Effort to keep a Hotel in Kansas not a Suc- 
cess — Unsectarian, but Christian — Her present Home .... 530 



CONTENTS. 79 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

MY KEMINISCENCES OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN — EXPERIENCES 
IN THE " WIGWAM " — EXCITING SCENES — MY INTER- 
VIEWS WITH THE PRESIDENT AT THE WHITE HOUSE. 

Early Life of President Lincoln — My first Knowledge of him, in 1858 
— " The Battle of the Giants" — He is nominated in 1860 for the 
Presidency — My Experience in the "Wigwam" as a Reporter — 
The memorable Scenes attending the Nomination — My Visit to 
Washington in 1862 — Gloomy Period of the War — Call on the 
President — His Depression — Discouraging Statements — Whole- 
. sale Desertions from the Army — "To undertake to fill up the 
Army is like shovelling Fleas!" — Mrs. Hoge and I see the Presi- 
dent alone — His Suffering during the AVar — He contributes the 
manuscript Proclamation of Emancipation to the Chicago Sanitary 
Fair — A Premium sent him as the largest Contril^tor .... 547 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

REMINISCENCES OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN CONTINUED — 
SCENES AT THE WHITE HOUSE— A WIFE'S SAD STORY 
AND AFFECTING PETITION — I INTERCEDE WITH THE 
PRESIDENT — HIS SYMPATHY AND MERCY. 

The President refuses to pardon a Virginia Spy — Wife of the con- 
demned Illinois Major — Her sad Story — She is too much broken 
down to plead for her Husband's Life — " Beg the President not to 
allow my Husband to be shot!" — I tell her Story — The President's 
Sympathy — "These Cases kill me" — He had already commuted 
the Major's Sentence — His Delight at the Discovery — " I know all 
about it now" — The grateful Woman fainted — She is told to go 
and visit her Husband — The broken-hearted Wife goes away 
imploring Blessings on the President — Beautiful Reception of 
Miss Elizabeth Peabody — Touching Letter to Mrs. Bixby — Her 
five Sons were killed in Battle — Humorous Reply to his Advisers 
— " Keep Silence, and we'll get you safe across" 566 



CHAPTER XXX. 

MY LAST INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT LINCOLN — SCENES 
AT HIS RECEPTIONS — HIS INEXHAUSTIBLE HUMOR — HIS 
ASSASSINATION — A NATION IN TEARS. 

Chicago projects a second mammoth Sanitary Fair — Attendance of 
President and Mrs. Lincoln solicited — His comical Narration of 



80 CON^TENTS. 

his Experiences at the Philadelphia Fair — "I couldn't stand 
another big Fair" — A humorous Inducement — Both promise 
Attendance — Mrs. Lincoln's Reception — The President's Manner 
of Receiving — Crowds in Attendance — Love for Children — 
"Stop, my little Man" — "You expect to be President some- 
time" — An unexpected Reply — The Humble welcomed — Love 
universally manifested for him — The Remains of the martyred 
President are received in Chicago — Tlie unfeigned Grief of the 
Northwest — The Body lies in State at the Court House — " All is 
well with him forever ! " 578 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

HEROISM OF SOLDIERS' WIVES — WHAT THEY EKDURED AT 
HOME — A SUNDAY MORNING VISIT TO THEIR FAMILIES — 
LEAVES FROxM MY JOURNAL — PATHETIC INCIDENTS. 

Petition of four hundred and eighty Soldiers in Southern Hospitals 
— " Ignore us, but look after our suffering Families!" — Heroism 
of Wives and Mothers — Visit Soldiers' Families Avith Chaplain 
McCabe — Children fierce and wild with Hunger — An under- 
ground Room, and great Wretchedness — The Soldier's Widow dies 
in the Night — Her Mother, in the Darkness, defends the Body 
from Rats — The Baby falls from the Chamber Window, while the 
Mother is away washing — A colored Woman turned out on the 
Sidewalk, with her dying Child, for unpaid Rent — Her Husband 
fighting under Colonel Shaw, in the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts — 
Governor Andrew sends me Carte blanche in the way of Relief 
for Families 'of that Regiment — The Historian should remember 
the Heroism of the Hearthstone 586 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

MY FIRST PUBLIC SPEECH— CROSSING THE MISSISSIPPI IN A 
ROW-BOAT — "A VOICE FROM THE FRONT " — FACING AN 
AUDIENCE FOR THE FIRST TIME — AN EVENTFUL NIGHT. 

Return from the Front — Accept Invitation from Dubuque to address 
the Ladies — Ferry-boat detained by moving Ice in the Mississippi 
— Cross in a Row-boat — The Trip attended with much Danger — 
The Risk assumed — Many prophesied evil Results — They proved 
false Prophets — Crossed the River safely — " All Iowa will hear you 
to-night " — Appalled at the Prospect — Am advertised for a Lecture, 
without being consulted — "A Voice from the Front !" — Fear to 
attempt a public Speech — Hesitation overcome by Colonel Stone's 



CONTENTS. 81 

Argument — The Results that followed — An Iowa Sanitary Fair is 
planned and carried out — Aggregates nearly |60,000 601 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

REMINISCENCES OF THE WAR — TOUCHING STORY OF A RING 
— THE MAJOR WHO CRIED FOR MILK — CAPTURE OF GEN- 
ERAL GRANT — "OLD ABE," THE WISCONSIN WAR EAGLE, 
AND HIS WONDERFUL CAREER. 

Confronted by one of my own Letters — The widowed Mother tells her 
Story — Puts her dead Daughter's Ring on my Finger — Officers' 
Hospital at Memphis — Its wretched Condition — Is made com- 
fortable by the Commission — Incident at the Fabyan House, 
White Mountains — ' ' Do you remember the Major who cried for 
Milk?" — Second Sanitary Fair in Chicago — Held after the War 
ended — Regiments, Soldiers, and Officers received there — An 
Ovation to General Grant — Executes a flank Movement on the 
People — Is captured by young Ladies — " This beats Vicksburg 
all out of Sight!"— "Old Abe," the Eagle of the Eighth Wis- 
consin — His military Behavior — Children sell his Pictures for the 
Soldiers' Fair — Make $16,308.93 by the Sales 613 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

SOLDIERS' LETTERS FROM THE FRONT DURING THE FIRST 
YEAR OF THE WAR — VIVID PICTURES OF LIFE IN CAMP 

— DESOLATION — AMUSEMENTS — MARCHING — FORAGING 

— PICKET DUTY — LETTERS FROM HOME. 

Authors of the Letters — Life in Camp — Exploits of the First Iowa 

— "A bully Boy" — Hardships of a Chaplain — Fight at Conrad's 
Ferry — The Desolation of War — Impatient to be led into Action 

— "Little Mack" — President's Reception — The Picture of Weari- 
ness and Despair — Amusements — Morals — Without the Com- 
forts of Civilization — Secession Literature — Hutchinsons sing in 
Camp — Soldiers wild with Delight — Dying from Camp Diseases — 
The poor Horses — Depression of the Men — Picturesque Scenes — 
Breaking up Camp, and starting off — Going into Camp for the 
Night — Foraging — Difficulty of Moving a large Army — Longing 
for Letters from Home — Their blessed Influence — "The musty 
Crackers and rusty Bacon are better" — Fatigues of Picket Duty 

— In Piursuit of Something to eat — "Somebody had been frying 



82 CONTENTS. 



Chickens " — Battle of Pea Ridge — As good as Dead the last half 

of the Battle 629 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

SOLDIERS' LETTERS FROM THE FRONT DURING THE SECOND 
TEAR OF THE WAR — HOW A SOLDIER FEELS IN BATTLE 

— SWAMPS OF THE CHICKAHOMINY — A BABY ON THE 
BATTLE-FIELD — " OLD ROSY." 

Letter from a Nurse on a Hospital Boat — After the Battle of Shiloh 

— Battle Scenes — "Marching all Day, and fighting all Night" — 
Fearful Condition of the Sick and Wounded — Intimidating Effect 
of the howling Shells — Burning commissary Stores — "It is all 
over ! I am to be killed ! " — Hard Lot of the Sick — Wading through 
the villanous Mud of Virginia — General Howard wounded — 
"Hereafter let's buy our Gloves together!" — Letters from Home 

— "A Means of Grace" — Negro Friendliness — Splendid Foraging 

— Surprised at the good-looking Yankees — Life in a Rebel Prison 

— The Counterpart of Jeffreys and Haynau — Putrid Mule-Beef — 
Soup swarming with Bugs and Maggots — " A Baby on the Battle- 
Field " — The Army of the Cumberland — " Old Rosy " — Nation- 
alities represented in the Army — " Schpike dem new Guns! No, 
Sheneral, it vould schpoil dem ! " 650 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

SOLDIERS' LETTERS FROM THE FRONT DURING THE THIRD 
YEAR OF THE WAR — HOUSEKEEPING IN CAMP — RIDING 
"CRITTER-BACK" — DARING DEEDS — REBEL PICKETS. 

Battle of Chickamauga — Remarkable Presentiment — Housekeeping in 
Camp — Ignorance of the Enemy— " The walking Regiments" — 
"Cannon Soldiers" — Wept over his lifeless Body — Ignorance of 
secesh Soldiers — Yet they fight bravely — Have plenty of Hay, but 
no Impunity — Greater Loss by Sickness than on Fields of Battle 
— Evidence that the Enemy are near — "Riding Critter-back" — 
After the Battle of the Wilderness — "Any Commander but Grant 
would have retreated" — Recklessness of the Cavalry — Daring of 
the Soldiers — " Divide is the word, or you are a dead Johnny! " — 
Ten thousand Men sing " Rally round the Flag, Boys!" — "One 
vast, exultant Roar ! " — Talking with rebel Pickets 672 



CONTENTS. 83 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

SOLDIERS' LETTERS FROM THE FRONT DURING THE LAST 
YEAR OF THE WAR — LIFE IN REBEL PRISONS — DREAD- 
FUL SCENES — HORRORS OF ANDERSONVILLE — LAST DAYS 
OF THE GREAT REBELLION — PEACE. 

A Hospital Picnic — " The Stump Squad " — Strawberries for the Army 

— " Virginia a vast Blackberry Field " — " Old Hundred " in Camp 

— Hunting Bloodhounds — Letter from a Hospital Nurse in Annap- 
olis — Thirty thousand Prisoners cooped up at Andersonville, in 
ten Acres — Their Hands and Feet rot off — Swarming with Vermin 

— Bones protrude through the Flesh — The Men become Idiots and 
Lunatics — Different Treatment of Southern Prisoners by the North 

— " The Yankees take good Care of us " — Last Days of Sherman's 
"March to the Sea" — The Army reaches the Atlantic Coast — 
Columbia, S. C, is burned — Destitution of the South — "At the 
Mercy of a General more powerful than Grant or Sherman, Gen- 
eral Starvation " 682 




AFTER THE BATTLE. 






CHAPTEE I. 

THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR— THE SPIRIT OF 1S61 — FIRST 
CALL FOR VOLUNTEERS — UPRISING OF THE NORTH — EX- 
CITING SCENES AND INCIDENTS. 

[n Boston with my (lying Father — His early History — Surrender of Fort 
Sumter — Uprising of the North — President Lincoln's Call for Seventy- 
five Thousand Troops — Their Rendezvous in Faneuil Hall — Departure 
of the Masachusetts Sixth for Washington — Scenes at the Boston and 
Albany Station — Interview with Mr. Garrison and Wendell Phillips — 
The Massachusetts Sixth attacked in Baltimore — War Scenes in 
Auburn, N. Y. — My Return to Chicago — Impressive Scenes in the 
Republican Wigwam — Cairo, 111., a strategic Point — North and South 
fiasten to seize it — Chicago Troops arrive first and take Possession — 
Increased Preparations for War — Washington carefully guarded — 
Defeat at Bull Run — The North nerved to Power and Purpose — 
The South exultant in Self-Confidence — Lines now sharply drawn 
between loyal and disloyal States. 

HE opening of the War of the RebelUon 
found me in Boston, my native city. My 
own home had been in Chicago for years, 
but my aged father was thought to be 
dying, and the stern speech of the telegram had 
summoned me to his bedside. It was a time of 
extreme and unconcealed anxiety. The daily papers 
teemed with the dreary records of secession. The 
Southern press blazed with hatred of the IS'orth, 
and with fierce contempt for her patience and her 
avowed desire for ])eace. l!^orthern men and women 
were driven from Southern homes, leaving behind all 
their possessions, and thankful to escape with life. 

85 




86 " MY GOD ! NOW LET ME DIE ! " 

Every one Avas asking his neighbor, " What will be 
the end?" but there was no answer, for over the 
whole ^NTorth the paralysis of death seemed to have 
settled. 

The day after my arrival, came the news that Fort 
Sumter was attacked, which increased the feverish 
anxiety. The threats of its bombardment had been 
discredited, for the N^orth believed the South to be 
as deeply rooted in attachment to the Union as it 
knew itself to be. All its high-sounding talk of war 
was obstinately regarded as empty gasconade, and 
its military preparations, as the idle bluster of angry 
disappointment. When, therefore, the telegraj^h, 
which had registered for the astounded nation the 
hourly progress of the bombardment, announced the 
lowering of the stars and stripes, and the surrender 
of the beleaguered garrison, the news fell on the land 
like a thunderbolt. 

During those never-to-be-forgotten days of Sum- 
ter's bombardment, I vibrated between my father's 
sick-room and the bulletin-board. With his anxious 
eyes asking speechless questions, he challenged 
every one who entered his apartment. When the 
speedy end came, and he was told that " Sumter had 
fallen!" he turned his face to the wall with an ex- 
ceedingly bitter cry: "My God! now let me die, for 
I cannot survive the ruin of my country!" His ill- 
ness was occasioned by mental suffering, and not by 
bodily ailment. The pending calamities of the nation, 
and the threatened disruption of the Union, had 
smitten him with sore anguish of heart. And mis- 
taking the patience of the ^orth, which hoped to 
avoid a collision with the excited South, as acqui- 
escence in its rebellion, he believed the Hepublic rent 



A VICTIM OF THE BRITISH " PEESS-GANU." 87 

in twain. For him, every fibre of whose being was 
intertwined with an ahnost ecstatic love of country, 
all joy in life was over. 

Born just at the close of the War of the Kevolu- 
tion, in which his father and his kindred had served, 
my father was reared in a home where the memories 
of that war were sacredly cherished. Its great 
underlying moral cause — the defence of "inalienable 
human rights," — its hardships, heroism, and undying 
glory, — these were burned into him in his boyhood 
by constant recital, and he grew to manhood an 
enthusiast in his love for the young Republic. When, 
in 1812, war was declared by the United States 
against Great Britain, my father was more than a 
willing volunteer, and he entered the naval service. 

The persistent claim of Great Britain that she had 
a right to search American vessels for deserters from 
her navy, — a right which she exercised in the most 
offensive manner, until she had " impressed " thou- 
sands of American-born seamen into her unwilling 
service, — was the cause of the war. My father had 
been a victim of the British " press-gang," and, 
although born in Massachusetts, among the Berkshire 
hills, he was arrested on board an American trading- 
vessel, as an English deserter, and Avas forced to do 
duty on a British man-of-war. 

I have listened, spell-bound, in childhood, to his 
graphic narration of the indignities and cruelties 
to which he was there subjected. Suspected of a 
purpose to escape, he was degraded to menial service ; 
and when he refused to fight against his own coun- 
trymen in time of an engagement, he was put in 
irons and threatened with death. When unexpect- 
edly restored to menial service, he watched his oppor- 



88 THE REBELLION DENOUNCED. 

tunity, and, running fearful risks, succeeded in escap- 
ing from the detested British war-vessel while it was 
lying at Copenhagen. After weary weeks of hiding 
and Avatching and waiting, with experiences of danger 
that afterwards were woven into many a tei'rible 
dream of the night, a chance of return to his own 
country was given him, and was gladly accepted. 

Hostilities had already commenced between the 
two belligerent nations, and, fired with a desire to 
avenge his wrongs, he enlisted on the frigate " Con- 
stitution " and served under Commodores Hull and 
Bainbridge until the end of the war. ]^ow, fighting 
under the flag of his country, he coveted hardship 
and rejoiced in peril, for his early patriotism had 
become a devouring flame, only equalled in its in- 
tensity by his burning hatred of Great Britain. Ever 
after, love of country and pride of American citizen- 
ship were a vital part of his nature, dominating his 
speech and his life. The dreary winter of secession, 
when the nation seemed slowly disintegrating, had 
brought low his pride, and consumed both life and 
hope, and it seemed doubtful if he would survive the 
shock of Fort Sumter's reduction. 

The next day, April 14, was Sunday. The pulpits 
thundered with denunciations of the rebellion. Con- 
gregations applauded sermons such as w^ere never 
before heard in Boston, not even from radical preach- 
ers. Many of the clergy saw with clear vision, at 
the very outset, that the real contest was between 
slavery and fi'eedom; and, with the prophetic instinct 
of the seer, they predicted the death of slavery as 
the outcome of the war. Some of the ministers 
counselled war rather than longer submission to the 
imperious South. Better that the land should be 



THE WHOLE NORTH AROUSED. 89 

drenched with fraternal blood than that any further 
concessions should be made to the slaveocracy. For 
they were willing to disrupt the Union rather than 
yield their hated purpose to extend slavery through- 
out the Kepublic. The same vigorous speech was 
heard on the streets, through which surged hosts of 
excited men. There was an end of patience, and in 
its stead was aroused a determination to avenge the 
insult offered the nation. Conservative and peace- 
ful counsel was shrivelled in a blaze of belligerent 
excitement. 

Monday dawned, April 15. Who that saw that 
day will ever forget it! For now, drowning the ex- 
ultations of the triumphant South, louder than their 
boom of cannon, heard above their clang of bells and 
blare of trumpets, there rang out the voice of Abra- 
ham Lincoln calling for seventy-five thousand volun- 
teers for three months. They were for the protection 
of "Washington and the property of the government. 
All who were in arms against the country were com- 
manded to return home in twenty days, and Congress 
was summoned to meet on the 4th of July. 

This proclamation was like the first peal of a sur- 
charged thunder-cloud, clearing the murky air. The 
South received it as a declaration of war, the Korth 
as a confession that civil war had begun ; and the 
whole ^orth arose as one man. The Union was not 
to be destroyed without a struggle that would deluge 
the land with blood. The calls of the governors of 
the loyal states were met with a response so gene- 
rous, that ten times seventy-five thousand volunteers 
could have been furnished had they been asked. 
All the large cities and towns raised money for the 
volunteers and their families, and it was believed 



90 PREPARATIONS FOR WAR. 

that abundant means were placed at the disposal of 
the general government for a speedy quelling of the 
rebellion. 

Everywhere the drum and fife thrilled the air with 
their stirring call. Recruiting offices were opened 
in every city, town, and village, ^o stimulus was 
needed. The j^lough was left in the furrow; the 
carpenter turned from the bench; the student closed 
his books; the clerk abandoned the counting-room; 
the lawyer forsook his clients ; and even the clergy- 
man exchanged his pulpit for the camp and the tented 
field, preaching no longer the gospel of peace, but 
the duty of war. Hastily formed companies marched 
to camps of rendezvous, the sunlight flashing from 
gun-barrel and bayonet, and the streets echoing the 
measured tread of soldiers. Flags floated from the 
roofs of houses, were flung to the breeze from cham- 
bers of commerce and boards of trade, spanned the 
surging streets, decorated the private parloi*, glorified 
the school-room, festooned the church walls and 
pulpit, and blossomed everywhere. All normal habits 
of life were suspended, and business and pleasure 
alike were forgotten. 

To my father this uprising of the country was the 
very elixir of life. The blood came again to his 
cheek, and vigor to his system. And when, on the 
morning of Tuesday, volunteers began to arrive in 
Boston, and Faneuil Hall; the old " Cradle of Lib- 
erty," was opened for their accommodation, he in- 
sisted on being lifted into a carriage, and on going to 
witness their arrival and reception. As they marched 
from the railroad stations, they were escorted by 
crowds cheering vociferously. Merchants and clerks 
rushed out from stores, bareheaded, saluting them as 



SALUTING THE FLAG. 91 

they passed. Windows were flimg up; and women 
leaned out into the rain, waving flags and handker- 
chiefs. Horse-cars and omnibuses halted for the 
passage of the soldiers, and cheer upon cheer leaped 
forth from the thronged doors and windows. The 
multitudes that followed after, and surged along on 
either side, and ran before in dense and palpitating 
masses, rent the air with prolonged acclamations. 

As the men tiled into Faneuil Hall, in solid 
columns, the enthusiasm knew uo bounds. Men, 
women, and children seethed in a fervid excitement. 
" Grod bless it! " uttered my ftither in tender and de- 
vout tone, as he sat beside me in the carriage, leaning 
heavily forward on his staff with clasped hands. 
And following the direction of his streaming eyes, 
and those of the thousands surrounding us, I saw 
the dear banner of my country, rising higher and 
higher to the top of the flagstaff, fling out fold after 
fold to the damp air, and float proudly over the hal- 
lowed edifice. Oh, the roar that rang out from ten 
thousand throats! Old men, with white hair and 
tearful faces, lifted their hats to the national ensign, 
and reverently saluted it. Young men greeted it 
with fierce and wild hurrahs, talking the while in 
terse Saxon of the traitors of the Confederate States, 
who had dragged in the dirt this flag of their coun- 
try, never before dishonored. 

I had never seen anything like this before. I had 
never dreamed that N^ew England, slow to wrath, 
could be fired with so warlike a spirit. ]N^ever be- 
fore had the national flag signified anything to me. 
But as I saw it now, kissing the skies, all that it 
symbolized as representative of government and 
emblematic of national majesty became clear to my 



92 THE FLAG CLAD WITH NEW MEANING. 

mental vision. It was honored on all seas — it af- 
forded sanctuary in all lands — it represented the 
authority and protection of a united people. It 
signified an advance in human government, for it 
had been adopted by millions of men, who stepped 
out before the on-looking world, and wrote out a 
declaration of human rights as the basis of uational 
life, pledging to its maintenance " life, fortune, and 
sacred honor " — a pledge they kept so nobly that 
the world learned a new meaning to the word, conse- 
cration. It was this holy flag that had been insulted 
— it was this mother country, the grandest on earth, 
with all its faults, that the South Avere determined to 
slay — it was this nationality of which they would 
bereave us. And all in the interest of human 
slavery! I knew the full meaning of slavery, for I 
had lived two years on a plantation in Southern 
Virginia, twenty years before, and had seen its Avoe 
and shame. " If it be a question of the supremacy 
of freedom or slavery underlying this war," was my 
mental ejaculation, " then I pray God it may be set- 
tled now, by us, and not be left to our children. 
And oh that I may be a hand, a foot, an eye, a 
voice, an influence, on the side of freedom and my 
country ! " I was weak with the new tides of feeling 
coursing through my being. 

That day cartridges were made for the regiments 
by the hundred thousand. Army rifles were ordered 
from the Springfield Armory. Fifteen hundred 
workmen were engaged for the Charlestown IS^avy 
Yard. Enlistments of hardy-looking men went on 
vigorously, and hundreds of wealthy citizens pledged 
pecuniary aid to the families of the soldiers. Mili- 
tary and professional men tendered their services to 




FAMOUS UNION BATTLE- FLAGS . 

1 , h!li'V(>iilli lioi^t ('oim \'olunt(M'ts 
ii<'ii(iijiiMrlcrs (mikIoii Old \'ernionl Bri6;i(l«\ 'V Gpii.SedQvvir.k's (ill i. ('(«•[ >s llr;uli|ii;irl(!is I-'1;iq 

* For Dcmri/ihons Sfr fxu/c.s 2-'i ^0' 

PHOTOGRAPHED AND PAINTED FRQM THE ORIGINAL FLAGS EXPRESSLY FOR THIS WOR^- 



" FALL INTO LINE ! " 95 

the government in its present emergency. The 
Boston banks oftered to loan the state three milHon 
six hundred thousand dollars without security, while 
banks outside the city, throughout the state, were 
equally generous in their offers. By six o'clock on 
the afternoon of Tuesday, April 16, three regi- 
ments were ready to start for Washington, and new 
companies were being raised in all parts of the state. 
On the afternoon of the next day, the Sixth Massa- 
chusetts, a full regiment one thousand strong, started 
from Boston by rail, leaving the Fourth Massachu- 
setts to follow. 

An immense concourse of people gathered in the 
neighborhood of the Boston and Albany railroad 
station to witness their departure. The great crowd 
was evidently under the influence of deep feeling, 
but it was repressed, and the demonstrations were 
not noisy. In all hands were evening editions of 
the daily papers; and as the record of the disloyal 
behavior of Maryland and Virginia was read aloud, 
the comments were emphatic in disapproval. With 
the arrival of the uniformed troops, the excitement 
burst out into a frenzy of shouts, cheers, and ringing 
acclamation. Tears ran down not only the cheeks 
of women, but those of men ; but there was no falter- 
ing. A clergyman mounted an extemporized plat- 
form, to ofi'er prayei", where he could be seen and 
heard by all, and a solemn hush fell on the excited 
multitude, as if we were inside a church. His voice 
rang out to the remotest auditor. The long train 
backed down where the soldiers were scattered 
among mothers, wives, sweethearts, and friends utter- 
ing last words of farewell. 

" Fall into line! " was the unfamiliar order that rang 



96 ON TO WASHTXGTOX. 

out, clear and distinct, with a tone of authority. The 
blue-coated soldiers released themselves tenderly 
from the clinging arms of affection, kissed again, 
and again, and again, the faces upturned to theirs, 
white with the agony of parting, formed in long lines, 
comjDany by company, and were marched into the 
cars. The two locomotives, drawing the long train 
slowly out of the station, whistled a shrill " good- 
bye " — every engine in the neighborhood shrieked 
back an answering farewell — from the crowded 
streets, the densely packed station, the roofs of 
houses, the thronged windows, and the solid mass of 
human beings linhig both sides of the track, farther 
than the eye could see, there rang out a roar of good 
wishes, and parting words, accompanied with tears 
and sobs, and the waving of hats and handkerchiefs 
— and the Sixth Massachusetts was on its way to 
Washington. Ah, how little the}^, or Ave, foresaw the 
reception awaiting them in the streets of Baltimore! 

As I turned to leave the station, my attention was 
attracted by little groups, in the centre of which 
were sad men and weeping women. A. woman had 
fainted, and I waited till restoratives and kind offi- 
ces had brought her back to life. She apologized 
for her •' weakness," saying she was not very well, 
and her son's departure was sudden. One of the 

company added that " Mrs. didn't know that 

Andrew had enlisted till to-day noon, and she hadn't 
got over the bad news received a week ago; for 
Clement, her only other child — and a good boy he 
was, too — Avas drowned last week in the Bav of San 
Francisco." My heart went out to the poor Avoman, 
and I tried to say something comforting to her. 

" He has only gone for three months, you know," 



WEAK IN BODY OlSTiT. 97 

I said, " and probably will not be called to do more 
than police diit}^ I hardly think there will be any 
fighting — certainly nothing more than sldrraishing." 
My speech took counsel of my Avishes, for I did not 
believe what I said. But there was a general feel- 
ing that the rebellion would be suppressed speedily, 
and that the determined attitude of the ^orth would 
end very shortly the hostile bluster of the South. 

The pallid middle-aged mother was weak in body 
only. " If the country needs my boy for three months, 
or three years, I am not the woman to hinder him," 
was her answer. " He's all I've got, now that Clem- 
ent is drowned; but when he told me he'd enlisted, 
I gave him my blessing, and told him to go — for if 
we lose our country what is there to live for?" 

My father's condition was so improved that there 
was no longer any need of my remaining in Boston. 
He lived, active and vigorous, and with perfect mental 
clearness, until within a few weeks of the surrender 
of Lee, in April, 1865 — always admonishing me, 
whenever we met, that " the severest years of a war 
are the twenty-five that succeed it, when the demor- 
alization which it has engendered is found in every 
department of business, society, and government." 
He had had experience in war and its demoralizing 
influence. 

My husband's letters from Chicago were full of the 
war excitement of the West. The more than doubt- 
ful position of Missouri, and the fact that the lower 
tiers of counties of Illinois and Indiana were allied 
to the South by kinship, trade, and political sympathy, 
caused great anxiety. The banks of Illinois were 
based on Southern state bonds, and secession had 
caused suspension, failure, and financial distress. My 



98 IKTERVIEW WITH MR. GARRISON". 

husband was editor and proprietor of a prosperous 
weekly paper, whose subscribers were scattered 
throusfhout the I^orthwest, and I was associated with 
him. I knew that a large pi'oportion of them sympa- 
thized with the secessionists, and would immediately 
discontinue the paper, and become its active, open 
enemies, if its editors came out decidedly loyal to the 
Union, as he had written me we must do in the very 
next issue. I must hasten home to Chicago. But, 
before leaving, I coveted an interview with Mr. Gar- 
rison or Wendell Phillips. For many years they 
had been to me prophet and king, and I now sought 
them, as, of old, the oracles were consulted. 

I found Mr. Garrison in his office on Washington 
Street, with composing-stick in hand, setting up 
matter for the next week's Liher.ator. He was as 
calm and serene as a summer morning, ^o one 
could have divined, from his passionless face and 
manner, that a hurricane of feeling was raging in the 
moral and political world. 

" Mr. Garrison," I inquired, " what is your opinion 
of this Southern rebellion? Will it be a 'sixty days' 
flurry,' as Secretary Seward prophesies, or are we to 
have war?" 

"We are to have war — a bloody, merciless war — 
a civil war, always more to be dreaded than one with 
a foreign nation." 

"Do you think it will be a long war?" 

" '^o one can tell. It may last as long as the War 
of the Revolution. The Korth underrates the power, 
purpose, and ability of the South, over which it ex- 
pects an easy triumph. Instead of this, it will be 
plunged into a desperate struggle, of which it does, 
not dream." 



PREDICTION OF WENDELL PHILLIPS. 99 

"What will be the result? How will the war end 
— in dissolution of the Union?" 

"JSTo one can answer that question. Of one thing 
only am I certain — the war will result in the death 
of slavery ! " 

"Do you believe that, Mr. Garrison? Theodore 
Parker has predicted that slavery would go down in 
blood, but it has never seemed possible that his 
prophecy would be verified." 

At that moment Mr. Phillips entered, with the 
morning paper in hand, glowing with the account 
it gave of the magnificent ovation accorded the Sixth 
Massachusetts in its passage through Kew York. 
How im23assioned he was, and yet how self-poised! 
If Mr. Garrison appeared the incarnation of serenity, 
Mr. Phillips seemed aglow with sacred fire. In the 
first pause of the conversation between the two men, 
I interrogated Mr. Phillips as I had Mr. Garrison. 

"Mr. Garrison tells me that he is confident the 
war will result in the destruction of slavery. Do 
you share this confidence with him, Mr. Phillips?" 

"Yes; slavery has taken the sword, and it will 
perish by the sword. Five years hence not a slave 
will be found on American soil ! " 

The next morning I left for Chicago. All along 
the route were excited groups of people, eager for 
news from Washington, and everywhere was dis- 
l^layed the national flag. At Albany, where we 
halted for dinner, we learned the reception given the 
Massachusetts Sixth in their passage through Balti- 
more the day before. A vast and angry crowd had 
opposed their progress, showers of stones and other 
missiles were hurled at them from the streets and 
house-tops, the soldiers had defended themselves and 



L.cfC. 



100 SOLDIERS MOBBED IN BALTIMORE. 

fired into the mob, and the dead, dying, and wounded 
lay in the streets. So read the telegram. It was 
startling news, and blanched the cheeks of those Avho 
listened while the exaggerated accounts of the 
papers were being read. The war had indeed begun. 
The dead silence w as broken by a tall, stern, sinewy, 
and grizzled Yankee, who had listened standing with 
both hands deeply plunged in his pockets. 

" Waal, now, them Southern fire-eaters have gone 
and done it — that's a fact! " 

The quaintness of the speech, with the peculiar 
tone and manner, spoke volumes. The breach between 
the I*N^orth and South was fast becoming irreparable. 
War had begun in Baltimore, and its streets were 
reddened with fratricidal blood. The bodies of the 
Massachusetts fallen were "tenderly sent forward" 
to Governor Andrew, in obedience to his telegram. 
The whole city joined in the obsequies of these first 
martyrs of the new revolution, and, linking their 
memories with those of the early patriots who fell at 
Concord and Lexington, the drums .that had done 
service at the battles of Lexington and Bunker Hill, 
were beaten at the head of the funeral escort. 

I was detained en route over Sunday in Auburn, 
^. Y. The war spirit was rampant there, as every- 
where. A newly recruited company of volunteers 
were to leave on Monday morning for IS^ew York, 
and they were honored w^ith a public leave-taking in 
one of the churches that evening. The spacious 
church was crowded to sufibcation, — as large an au- 
dience waiting outside as was packed within. The 
pulpit was decked with the national colors. Bunting 
festooned the walls and the sides of the gallery. 
The great audience rose, clapping and applauding, 



INTENSE EXCITEMENT IN CHICAGO. 101 

as the soldiers filed into the pews reserved for them. 
The very air was electric with patriotic feeling. 
The sermon stirred the pulses like the blast of a 
bugle. It was a radical discourse, and recognized 
slavery as the underlying cause of the outbreak, 
which, it predicted, would result in the freedom of 
the Southern serfs. 

The choir sang patriotic odes, the audience joining 
with one voice in the exultant refrain, " It is sweet, it 
is sweet, for one's country to die! " The great con- 
gregation without caught it, thrilling the evening air 
with the spirit of the hour, ^' It is sweet, it is sweet, 
for one's country to die ! " So intense was the feeling 
that when an appeal was made from the pulpit — 
transformed by the excitement into a recruiting office 
— for volunteers to defend the country, some half 
dozen rose, who were afterwards mustered into the 
service. 

In Chicago there was more stir and excitement 
than I had seen elsewhere. The war spirit, war 
news, and war preparations engrossed everybody. 
The day presented scenes of din and bustle, and 
the night was scarcely less tranquil. The streets 
were thronged with eager men and women rushing 
here and there as incidents called them. 

On the evening of the very day that Fort Sumter 
capitulated, an immense meeting of citizens was held 
in the great " Republican Wigwam," erected, espe- 
cially for the accommodation of the convention which 
nominated Abraham Lincoln to the presidency, less 
than a year before. It was now re-baptized, and 
called " National Hall," and was consecrated afresh, 
not to " party," but to " patriotism." Every inch of 
standing room was utilized on the ground floor, and 



102 AN IMPRESSIVE SCENE. 

the gallery was packed to the ceiling. Men of all 
religious creeds and party affiliations came together 
— a unit now — to deliberate on the crisis of the 
hour. 

The gentleman chosen to j)reside had voted against 
President Lincoln. "But," he said, "the Administra- 
tion, which I did not help elect, shall have my sup- 
port now to the last, for this is a just and holy war on 
which we are entering." 

Hon. George Manniere, eminent and popular, ad- 
ministered to the assemblage the oath of fealty to 
the government. I^ever was there a more impres- 
sive scene. The vast multitude rose, numbering 
nearly ten thousand, and, reverently baring the head, 
and raising the right hand, — old men and youths, ma- 
trons and maidens, and even young children, — they 
repeated solemnly after Judge Manniere the words of 
the following oath : 

"I do solemnly swear, in tlie jDresence of Almighty God, that 
I will faithfully supj^ort the Constitution of the United States, 
and of the State of Illinois. So hel]^ me God." 

All the speeches of the evening were short and to 
the point. The time for harangue was over — the 
time for action had begun. 

" I did not vote for Abraham Lincoln," said Hon. 
John Van Armen, " but I will sustain him to the last 
drop of my blood." 

" As long as this war lasts," said E. "W. McComas, 
of the Chicago Times, a Democratic journal, " I 
will stand by the flag of my country. Intimations 
have been thrown out that I shall not be true to my 
country, because I am of Southern birth. I came 
here of my own free will. Your allegiance is my 



THE RUSH POR CAIRO. 103 

allegiance. I am no longer a Virginian, but a citizen 
of Illinois and of the United States." 

On Sunday night, eight days after the fall of Sum- 
ter, troops were despatched from Chicago to Cairo, 
the southern terminus of the state, and a point of 
great strategic importance. At that time a muddy 
little town, it is situated at the confluence of the 
Ohio and Mississippi rivers, and is the key to the 
navigation of both. It is also the southern terminus 
of the Illinois Central railroad, whose northern ter- 
mini are Dubuque and Chicago. Its importance as 
a military post at that time could not be over-esti- 
mated. Had the South seized it, it could have con- 
trolled the railway combinations of the IS^orthwest, 
and closed the navigation of the Ohio and Missis- 
sippi. Southern leaders were well aware of its value 
as a railway and river centre, and were hurrying 
preparations to take possession of it. 

They were forestalled in their action by Chicago. 
In less than forty-eight hours a force of infantry and 
a company of artillery were ready to march from that 
city. It was a citizen-corps, made up mainly of 
young men, most of them belonging to the best 
families of the state. ISTot only were these youths 
surrendered to the service of the country, but, aided 
by requisitions on the stores of Chicago, they were 
equipjDed with such munitions of war as they carried. 
They left in haste, little time being accorded to leave- 
taking or indulgence in grief. The long train of 
twenty-six cars stood waiting them at the station, 
with two powerful . engines attached, which panted 
and puffed and shrieked as if eager to be off. As 
the precious train moved slowly out along the pier, the 
tens of thousands who lined the lake-shore bade 



104 " THEM BRASS MISSIONARIES." 

them farewell with deafening cheers. Round after 
round rang out over the Prairie Cit}^, and were sec- 
onded by the prolonged shrill shrieks of all the 
locomotives waiting at the numerous railway sta- 
tions. 

They were none too soon in their occupation of 
Cairo. Many of the inhabitants were credited with 
a leaning towards secession, and would have been 
glad to welcome Southern instead of N^orthei'u troops. 
But they found the arguments of four brass six- 
pounders, accompanied by men with power and 
authority to use them, quite irresistible, and the 
town stiffened into undoubted loyalty immediately. 
" Them brass missionaries converted a heap o' folks 
that was on the anxious seat, now I tell ye ! " said a 
plain, loyal man of the town, with a knowing wink of 
the eye, when narrating these events. 

If the ]!*^orth had been skeptical as to the proba- 
bility of war with the South, it was swiftly unde- 
ceived. For the President of the Southern Confed- 
eracy had also called for volunteers, and for persons 
to take out letters of marque as privateers, to destroy 
the commerce of the ]^orth, and his proclamation 
was received with an enthusiastic response. To 
meet this, President Lincoln declared all Southern 
ports blockaded, and denounced as pirates the com- 
missioned privateers. IN'othing darmted by the 
dreary prospect before them, the Southern leaders sent 
messengers to Europe, to obtain a recognition of their 
government as an equal nation contending with the 
North, and to get the blockade broken by promising 
England free trade and an ample supply of cotton. 
The South was in earnest, and the Korth began to 
believe it. 



THE AGONY OF THE NORTH. 105 

On the 3d of May, President Lincoln issued another 
proclamation, calling for forty-two thousand and 
thirty-four volunteers, at the same time increasing 
the regular army. In six weeks from the fall of 
Sumtei-, over half a million of men had volunteered 
to support the Union, nearly two hundred thousand 
of whom had been accepted, or were on the march, 
or were drilling preparatory to active service. More 
than one hundred thousand were organized by the 
different states, who were not accepted. 

The two hostile armies were rapidly nearing each 
other on the Potomac, for the South was intent on 
capturing and holding Washington, and boastingly 
proclaimed its determination to do this. This would 
give the Confederacy prestige in the eyes of the 
world; and when once in occupation of the capital 
city of the nation, it could demand the recognition of 
foreign powers with a probability of success. IN^ow 
its position was anomalous. Its seat of government 
was at Montgomery, Alabama, " a capital without a 
capitol. It had a Secretary of Treasury without any 
treasury; a Secretary of !N^avy without any navy; 
a Secretary of the Interior without any interior; a 
Secretary of Foreign Affairs without any foreign 
affairs; a Postmaster-General without any post- 
office; a Judiciary without any judgment, — in 
short, an Administration with nothing to administer." 

To protect Washington was the one agony of the 
JN'orthern people. Regiments were hurried forward 
without proper preparations for their care, w^hich 
caused them great privation and suffering. They 
were quartered in the Capitol; they camped in 
the public squares; they were even accommodated 
in the house of the President. Arms were stacked 



106 DEFEAT AT BULL RUX. 

in the rotunda of the Capitol, the stately edifice 
became a fortification. Zouaves lounged in the 
cushioned seats of members of Congress; and a 
military hospital was made of the Washington In- 
firmary, located on the site of the present Judiciary 
Square Hospital. Washington looked like a be- 
sieged city; and the nation breathed freely, for its 
seat of government was safe. There were constant 
collisions between small bodies of troops, and an 
incessant skirmishing between pickets, in which the 
Union soldiers were generally victorious. This kept 
the Avar excitement at fever heat, and confirmed the 
^orth in its confidence of crushing the rebellion at 
an early day. 

The defeat at Bull Kun extricated the nation 
from this condition of perilous self-confidence, and 
lea It to measure more accurately the mighty work 
on which it had entered. Our soldiers, enlisted only 
for three months, most of them unskilled, and com- 
manded by officers who had never " smelt gun- 
powder," marched into Virginia to attack the rebels 
with a gay sang froid, as if bound on a militar}^ 
picnic. They plundered as they marched, riotous 
with fun and frolic, accompanied by Congressmen, 
reporters, civilians — all who could muster passes 
from the government — and who followed on in 
carriages, omnibuses, and on horseback. They were 
going to witness an easy victory. 

From a combination of causes the battle of Bull 
Run was lost to the Union army, composed mostly 
of raw troops fresh from the counting-room, farm, 
and workshop, who had been marching and fighting 
for thirteen hours without any respite. AYearied 
and famished, and agonizing with thirst, ten thou- 



ROUTED, TERROR-STRICKEN FUGITIVES. 107 

sand fresh troops of the enemy were thrown sud- 
denly upon them, and a panic ensued. Back they 
fled to Washington, a headlong, disorderly mob; 
men in regiments and men in groups, army wagons 
and sutlers' teams, riderless horses, and the thunder- 
ous artillery, crushing all that came in their way 
— a routed host, confused, terror-stricken, and 
choked with dust, that no authority could halt, and 
no military skill re-organize. The rain came down in 
torrents, deepening the gloom, as the drenched fugi- 
tives poured over Long Bridge into the capital, 
cumbering the roads behind them with abandoned 
cannon, arms, and equipments, leaving their dead 
and dying uncared for. They filled the public ear 
with exaggerated accounts of surprise, slaughter, 
and pursuit, which could not be corrected, when 
later they were followed by orderly regiments and 
solid battalions, that unbroken and with military 
discipline marched back to their old encampments. 

As the story of this disaster was carried by the 
telegraph into the homes of the people, the ^orth 
was stunned and temporarily paralyzed. Its dream 
of invincibility was over. It was a gigantic war 
into which it was precipitated, and a gigantic army 
must be collected, equipped, and organized to meet it. 
Lifting itself out of the despair which for the mo- 
ment prostrated it, the nation girt itself anew with 
power and jDurpose. Its army of seventy-five thousand 
three months' men melted aAvay as soon as its brief 
term of service w^as ended. In its place the govern- 
ment now proceeded to raise, equip, drill, and pre- 
pare for the field an army of half a million ; and the 
Korth rose in majesty to aid the administration in 
its herculean task. 



108 THE SOUTH WILD WITH SUCCESS. 

But if the ]N"orth was sobered by this disaster, and 
nerved to a firmer grapple with her foes, the South 
was intoxicated with her easy success. Her forces 
were strengthened and consoHdated by this victory. 
She had httle doubt but tlie independence of tlie 
Southern confederacy was now achieved. Whoever 
throughout the South had hesitated to swear alle- 
giance to the cause of secession delayed no longer. 
Tennessee now voted to leave the Union. A great 
army of i-ebels suddenly made their appearance in 
Missouri, which was now rent with the ravages of 
civil war. And Fort Fillmore, in 'New Mexico, with 
seven hundred men, surrendered to a body of Texans 
without firing a gun. And now at last matters had 
sharply defined themselves ; the lines were drawn 
between the States that were loyal and disloyal, and 
the millions of the United States were ranged on one 
side or the other of a long and desperate struggle. 

Meantime, what did the women of the isTorth? 



CHAPTER II. 

LOYAL WOMEN OF THE NORTH — THEIR PATRIOTISM AND 
DEVOTION — HEROINES OF THE BATTLE-FIELD — HOME- 
WORK AND RELIEF SOCIETIES — SCRAPING LINT AND 
ROLLING BANDAGES. 

Tlie Patriotism of Men paralleled by that of Women — Notable Examples — 
Testimony of President Lincoln — Blunders of Inexperience — The Hav- 
elock Mania — A Woman Soldier in the Nineteenth Illinois — Sent out 
of Camp, she attempts Suicide — Is rescued and joins her Husband — 
Madame Turchin, Wife of the Colonel — Her Bravery and militai-y Skill 

— Her Ability as a Nurse — She defeats a Court-Martial — Other military 
Heroines — Annie Etheridge of the Third Michigan — Bridget Devens of 
the First Michigan Cavalry — Kady Brownell of the Fifth Rhode Island 

— Georgianna Peterman, the AVisconsin Drummer-Girl — Army Stories 
of military Women — Bandage and Lint Craze — Local Relief Societies — 
Queer Assortment of Supplies — Cars flooded with fermenting Goodies 

— Great Waste and Loss — Liberality of the People continues — Wiser 
Methods are devised. 

''HE great uprising among men, who ignored 
party and politics, and forgot sect and 
trade, in the fervor of their quickened love 
of country, was paralleled by a simi- 
uprising among women. The patriotic 
speech and song, which fired the blood of 
men, and led them to enter the lists as soldiers, 
nourished the self-sacrifice of women, and stimu- 
lated them to the collection of hospital supplies, 
and to brave the horrors and hardships of hospital 
fife. 

If men responded to the call of the country when 
it demanded soldiers by the hundred thousand, 
women j^lanned money-making enterprises, whose 

109 




110 UPRISING OF WOMEN. 

vastness of conception, and good business manage- 
ment, yielded millions of dollars to be expended in 
the interest of sick and wounded soldiers. If men 
faltered not, and went ga3dy to death, that slavery 
might be exterminated, and that the United States 
might remain intact and undivided, women strength- 
ened them b}" accepting the policy of the gov- 
ernment uncomplainingly. When the telegraph 
recorded for the country, " defeat " instead of " vic- 
tory," and for their beloved, " death " instead of 
"life," women continued to give the government 
their faith, and patiently worked and waited. 

It is easy to understand how men catch the 
contagion of war, especially when they feel their 
quarrel to be just. One can comprehend how, fired 
with enthusiasm, and insi^ired by martial music, they 
march to the cannon's mouth, where the iron hail 
rains heaviest, and the ranks are mowed down like 
grain in harvest. But for w^omen to send forth their 
husbands, sons, brothers and lovers to the fearful 
chances of the battle-field, knowing well the risks 
they run, — this involves exquisite suffering, and 
calls for another kind of heroism. This women did 
throughout the country, forcing their white lips to 
utter a cheerful " good-bye," when their hearts were 
nigh breaking with the fierce struggle. 

The transition of the country from peace to the 
tumult and waste of war, was appalling and swift — 
but the regeneration of its women kept pace w4th it. 
They lopped off superfluities, retrenched in expendi- 
tures, became deaf to the calls of pleasure, and 
heeded not the mandates of fashion. The incoming 
patriotism of the hour swept tliem to the loftiest 
height of devotion, and they were eager to do, to 



CASTE AXD SECT FORGOTTEN. Ill 

bear, or to suffer, for the beloved country. The 
fetters of caste and conventionalism dropped at their 
feet, and they sat together, patrician and plebeian, 
Protestant and Catholic, and scraped lint, and rolled 
bandages, or made garments for the poorly clad 
soldiery. 

An order was sent to Boston for five thousand 
shirts for the Massachusetts troops at the South. 
Every church in the cit}^ sent a delegation of ueedle- 
women to '^ Union Hall," heretofore used as a ball- 
room. The Catholic priests detailed five hundred 
sewing-girls to the pious work. Suburban towns 
rang the bells of the town hall to muster the seam- 
stresses. The plebeian Irish Catholic of South 
Boston ran the sewing-machine, while the patrician 
Protestant of Beacon Street basted, — and the shirts 
were made at the rate of a thousand a day. On 
Thursday, Dorothea Dix sent an order for five 
hundred shirts for her hospital in Washington. On 
Friday, they were cut, made, and packed — and 
were sent on their way that night. Similar events 
were of constant occurrence in every other city. 
The zeal and devotion of women no more flagged 
through the wai* than did that of the army in the 
field. They rose to the height of every emergency, 
and through all discouragements and reverses 
maintained a symj^athetic unity between the soldiers 
and themselves, that gave to the former a marvellous 
heroism. 

At a meeting in Washington during the war, called 
in the interest of the Sanitary Commission, President 
Lincoln said: "I am not accustomed to use the lan- 
guage of eulogy. I have never studied the art of 
paying comjjliments to women. But I must say that 



112 THE " HAVELOCK." 

if all that has been said by oratoi's and poets since 
the creation of the world in praise of women, was 
applied to the women of America, it would not do 
them justice for their conduct during this war. I 
will close by saying, God bless the women of Amer- 
ica!" 

Entirely unacquainted with the requirements of 
war and the needs of soldiers, it was inevitable that 
the first movements of women for army relief should 
be misdirected. They could not manifest more igno- 
rance, however, nor blunder more absurdly, than did 
the government in its early attempts to build up an 
effective and disciplined army. Both learned by 
blundering. 

It was summer ; and the army was to move south- 
ward, to be exposed to the torrid heats of the season 
and climate. A newspaper reminiscence of the good 
service rendered British troops in India by General 
Havelock set the ball in motion. He had devised a 
white linen head-dress to be worn over the caps of 
his men, which defended them from sunstroke, and 
in his honor it Avas named the " Havelock." Our 
men must, of course, be equipped with this protec- 
tion, and forthwith inexperienced women, and equally 
inexperienced men in the army, gave orders for the 
manufacture of Havelocks. What a furor there was 
over them ! Women who could not attend the " sew- 
ing-meeting " where the " Havelocks " were being 
manufactured, ordered the work sent to their homes, 
and ran the sewing-machines day and night till the 
nondescript headgear was completed. " Havelocks " 
were turned out by thousands, of all patterns and 
sizes, and of every conceivable material. 

In the early inexperience of that time, whenever 



"the cake a^d pie brigade." 113 

regiments were in camp awaiting marching orders, 
it was the custom of many women to pay them visits, 
laden with indigestible dainties. These they fur- 
nished in such profusion, that the " boys " were rarely 
without the means of obtaining a " permit " to the 
hospital until they broke up camp. While the Have- 
lock fever was at its height, the ^Nineteenth Illinois, 
commanded by Colonel Turchin, was mustered in, 
and was ordered to rendezvous at Camp Douglas. 
A detachment of the " cake and pie brigade," as the 
rollicking fellows called them, jDaid the regiment an 
early visit, and were received by the men who were 
not under drill, en Havelock. As the sturdy fellows 
emerged from their tents, all wearing " the white 
nightcaps," as they had irreverently christened the 
ugly head-dress, their appearance was so ludicrous 
that a shout went up from officers, soldiers, and lady 
visitors. They were worn in every imaginable fash- 
ion, — as nightcaps, turbans, sunbonnets, bandages, 
sunshades, — and the fate of the " Havelock " was 
sealed. ]N^o more time nor money was wasted in their 
useless manufacture. 

Hn passant, I remember another occurrence of 
that afternoon when we visited the camp of the Nine- 
teenth Illinois. I was watching companies that 
were drilling, a good deal amused at their awkward- 
ness and their slow comprehension of the orders 
given them. One of the captains came to me, with 
an apology for intrusion, and begged to know if I 
noticed anything peculiar in the appearance of one of 
the men, whom he indicated. It was evident at a 
glance that the " man " was a young woman in male 
attire, and I said so. " That is the rumor, and that 
is my suspicion," was his reply. The seeming sol- 



114: " GO WITH HIM I WILL ! " 

clier was called from the ranks and informed of the 
suspicions afloat, and asked the truth of them. 
There was a scene in an instant. Clutching the 
ofticer by the arm, and speaking in tones of passion- 
ate entreaty, she begged him not to expose her, but 
to allow her to retain her disguise. Her husband 
had enlisted in his company, she said, and it would 
kill her if he marched without her. " Let me go 
with you ! " I heard her plead. " Oh, sir, let me go 
with you ! " She was quietly conducted outside the 
camp, when I took her in charge. I wished to take 
her to my home; but she leaped suddenly from the 
carriage before we were half way from the camp, 
and in a moment was lost amid the crowds hastening 
home from their day's work. 

That night she leaped into the Chicago river, but 
was rescued by a policeman, who took her to the 
Home of the Friendless. Here I found her, a few 
days later, when I made an official visit to the insti- 
tution. She was extremely dejected, and could not 
be comforted. It was impossible to turn her from 
her purpose to follow her husband. "I have only 
my husband in all the world," she said, " and when 
he enlisted he promised that I should go with him; 
and that was why I put on his clothes and enlisted 
in the same regiment. And go with him I will, in 
spite of everybody." The regiment was ordered to 
Cairo, and the poor woman disappeared from the 
Home the same night. IS^one of us doubted but she 
left to carry out her purpose. 

Madame Turchin, the wife of the Colonel of the 
I^ineteenth Illinois, was the daughter of a Russian 
officer, and was born and reared in foreign camps, a 
favorite with the men of her father's command. 



MADAME TUKCHIN. 115 

She followed the fortunes of her husband in the 
War of the Rebellion, and accompanied him to the 
field. I met her at Springfield, 111., where her hus- 
band's regiment was waiting marching orders. Fine- 
looking, but inimistakably foreign in appearance and 
manner, she was intensely loyal to the Union, and 
thoroughly American in her sympathies and interests. 
She was as popular with the men of her husband's 
regiment as she had been with the Russian soldiers 
commanded by her father. They went to her with 
their illnesses and troubles, and she received them 
with kindness, a good deal of playful badinage, and 
very careful nursing when it was needed. 

In the spring of 1862, when the Nineteenth Illinois 
was actively engaged in Tennessee, Colonel Turchin 
was taken seriously ill, and was carried for days in 
an ambulance. Madame Turchin not only nursed 
her husband most tenderly, but took his place at the 
head of the regiment — the men in the ranks, and the 
subordinate oflicers, according her implicit and 
cheerful obedience. She was not one whit behind 
her husband in courage or military skill. Utterly 
devoid of fear, and manifesting perfect indifierence 
to shot or shell, or minie-balls, even when they fell 
thickly around her, she led the troops into action, 
facing the hottest fire, and fought bravely at their 
head. When her husband was able to resume his 
command, she gave herself again to the care of the 
sick and wounded, in the field hospital. 

An attempt was made to drive Colonel Turchin from 
the army, and on some pretext, ill or well founded, 
he was court-martialed. His plucky wife hastened 
to Washington, and not only obtained an order to 
set aside tne court-martial, but her husband's promo- 



116 "MICHIGAN BRIDGET." 

tion to the rank of Brigadier-General. Dashing back 
to Tennessee, she entered the court-room ti'imnph- 
antly, just as her husband was being declared 
"guilty," with the order to abandon his trial in one 
hand, and his commission in the other. If the young 
woman who was mustered into her husband's regi- 
ment, disguised as a man, appealed to Madame Tur- 
chin for permission to accompany her young soldier 
husband, I know she was not denied. 'No captain 
would be allowed to conduct her out of camp a 
second time. Madame Turchin's permission for her 
to serve as a soldier would be as effective as one fi-om 
the Secretary of War. 

The number of women who actually bore arms 
and served in the ranks during the war Avas greater 
than is supposed. Sometimes they followed the 
army as nurses, and divided their services between 
the battle-field and hospital. I remember Annie 
Etheridge, of Michigan, who was with the Third 
Michigan in every battle in which it was engaged. 
When their three years' service was ended, the re- 
enlisted veterans joined the Fifth Michigan, and 
Annie went with them. Through the whole four 
years of the war she was found in the field, often in 
the thickest of the fight, always inspiring the men to 
deeds of valor, always respected for her correctness 
of life. Soldiers and officers vied with one another 
in their devotion to her. 

Bridget Devens, known as " Michigan Bridget," 
went to the field with the First Michigan Cavalry, 
in which her husband was a private, and served 
through the war. Sometimes when a soldier fell 
she took his place, fighting in his stead with un- 
quailing couragCo Sometimes she rallied retreatine^ 



A WOMAN DRUMMER. 119 

troops — sometimes she brought off the wounded 
from the field — always fearless and daring, always 
doing good service as a soldier. Her love of army 
life continued a'fter the war ended, and with her 
husband she joined a regiment of the regular army, 
stationed on the Plains. 

Mrs. Kady Brownell was, like Madame Turchin, 
born in camp, her father being attached to the Brit- 
ish army. She accompanied the Fifth Rhode Island 
Infantry to the war, of which regiment her husband 
was a non-commissioned officer. She was the color- 
bearer of the regiment, and was a skilful sharp- 
shooter and expert swordsman. She marched with 
the men, and asked no favors as a woman, but bore 
the brunt of the battle, on occasion, as fearlessly as 
her comrades. She was in General Burnside's expe- 
dition to Koanoke Island and I^CAvbern, where her 
husband was severely wounded. When he was pro- 
nounced unfit for further service, and discharged, 
she also sought a discharge, and retired with him to 
private life and domestic duty. 

The Plattville, Wis., Witness, of March, 1864, 
records, as if it were nothing unusual, "the 
return from the army of Miss Georgianna Peter- 
man." Says the local paragrapher, " Miss Peterman 
has been for two years a drummer in the Seventh 
Wisconsin. She lives in Ellenboro', Wis., is about 
twenty years old, wears soldier clothes, and is 
quiet and reserved." Similar paragraphs appeared 
occasionally in other Western papers all through 
the war. These half-soldier heroines generally 
adopted a semi-military dress, and became expert in 
the use of the rifle, and skilful shots. 

Some one has stated the number of women soldiers 

8 



120 MILITARY WOME]^ EXCEPTIONAL. 

known to the service as little less than ' four hun- 
dred. I cannot vouch for the correctness of this 
estimate, but I am convinced that a larger number 
of women disguised themselves and enlisted in the 
service, for one cause or other, than was dreamed of. 
Entrenched in secrecy, and regarded as men, they 
were sometimes revealed as women, by accident or 
casualty. Some startling histories of these mili- 
tary women were current in the gossip of army life; 
and extravagant and unreal as were many of the 
narrations, one always felt that they had a foun- 
dation in fact. 

Such service was not the noblest that women ren- 
dered the country during its four years' struggle for 
life, and no one can regret that these soldier women 
were exceptional and rare. It is better to heal a 
wound than to make one. And it is to the honor of 
American women, not that they led hosts to the 
deadly charge, and battled amid contending armies, 
but that they confronted the horrid aspects of war 
with mighty love and earnestness. They kept up 
their own courage and that of their households. 
They became ministering angels to their countrymen 
who perilled health and life for the nation. They 
sent the love and impulses of home into the extended 
ranks of the army, through the unceasing corre- 
spondence they maintained with " the boys in blue." 
They planned largely, and toiled untiringly, and 
with steady persistence to the end, that the horrors 
of the battle-field might be mitigated, and the hospi- 
tals abound in needed comforts. The men at the 
front were sure of sympathy from the homes, and 
knew that the women remembered them with sleep- 
less interest. " This put heroic fibre into their 



LINT AND BANDAGE MANIA. 121 

souls," said Dr. Bellows, " and restored us our 
soldiers with their citizen hearts beating normally 
under their uniforms, as they dropped them off" at 
the last drum-tap." 

The decline of the Havelock fever was followed 
by a " lint and bandage " mania, which set in with 
great fury. For a time it was the all-absorbing 
topic. Knowing now how insignificant in value 
these items of relief proved in the actual experience 
of the war, one cannot forbear a smile when reading 
the sapient discussions of the time. " What is the 
best material for lint ? " " How is it best scraped 
and prepared ? " " By what means can it be best 
gathered, in the largest quantities ?" These were 
the questions of the hour, discussed gravely by pro- 
fessional men. And the " N^ew York Medical As- 
sociation for furnishing Hospital Supplies," actually 
held meetings to discuss " the lint question," and 
finally opened a " lint and bandage depot." Thus 
stimulated, every household gave its leisure time to 
scraping lint and rolling bandages, till the mighty 
accumulations compelled the ordering of a halt. A 
little later, the making of lint by machine relieved 
women of any further effort in this direction. 

So determined were the people that their citizen 
soldiers should be well cared for, that "Relief So- 
cieties " were frequently organized in the interest of 
regmients, as soon as they were mustered into the 
service. They proposed to follow the volunteers of 
their neighborhoods with their benefactions — " to pro- 
vide them with home comforts when well, and with 
hospital supplies and nurses when wounded or sick." 
It would have been an admirable plan if it could 
have been carried out. But numerous difficulties 



122 A CHAOS OF BENEVOLENCE. 

and failures soon brought these methods into disre- 
pute. The accumuLntion of perishable freight for 
the soldiers became fearful. It , demanded instant 
transportation, and the managers of freight trains 
and expresses were in despair. 

Women rifled their store-rooms and preserve- 
closets of canned fruits and pots of jam and mar- 
malade, which they packed with clothing and blan- 
kets, books and stationery, photographs and " com- 
fort-bags." Baggage cars were soon flooded with 
fermenting sweetmeats, and broken pots of jelly, 
that ought never to have been sent. Decaying fruit 
and vegetables, pastry and cake in a demoralized 
condition, badly canned meats and soups, whose 
fragrance was not that of " Araby the blest," were 
necessarily thrown away en route. And with them 
Avent the clothing and stationery saturated with the 
efiervescing and putrefying compounds which they 
enfolded. 

Added to this discouragement was the frequent 
loss of the packages. For the constant movements 
of troops rendered it impossible for express agents 
to forward boxes to special regiments. For a time 
there was great waste of the lavish outpouring of 
the people. It did not, however, check their liber- 
ality, but compelled wiser methods. For out of 
this chaos of individual benevolence and abounding 
patriotism the Sanitary Commission finally emerged, 
with its carefully elaborated plans, and its marvel- 
lous system. 



CHAPTER HI. 

A.T THE FRONT — WRETCHED HOSPITAL ARRANGEMENTS — 
THE SANITARY COMMISSION — ITS OBJECT, METHODS, 
AND WORK— BATTLE-FIELD RELIEF. 

Early Ignorance and Inefficiency of Officers — The Cause of Sickness and 
Death in Camp — Letters from the Front in Proof — Fearful Mortality of 
British Soldiers in the Crimea, in 1855 — Occasioned by similar Causes 
— Local Relief Societies organized — New York Women show practical 
Wisdom — The Sanitary Commission evolved from their Methods — Plan 
of Organization drawn up by Dr. Bellows — Sanctioned by the Pi-esident 
and Secretary of War — The Commission soon conquers all Prejudice — 
Its Work very extensive — Inspectors sent to Camps and Hospitals — 
Monographs prepared on the Hygiene of the Army — Portable "Soup- 
Kettles " — " Hospital Cars " — Forty Soldiers' Homes — Claim, Pension, 
and Back Pay Agency — "Hospital Directory" — "Battle-field Relief 
Service" — Ten "Branch Commissions" — Relief rendered at Shiloh 
and Antietam — The Supplies, or Money for their Purchase, Made or 
Collected by Women. 

^HE work of sanitary relief was very soon 
outlined by the necessities and sufferings of 
the men at the front. In the early period 
of the war, the troops reached their des- 
tinations generally in a very unsatisfactory 
condition. They were crowded into cattle 
cars as if they were beasts, frequently with em23ty 
haversacks, and with no provision for their comfort 
on the road. Prompted by generous impulse, men 
and women boarded the trains as they halted at the 
stations in cities, and served to the men hot coffee 
and such food as could most readily be provided. 
But it was only by accident, or through tireless and 

1-23 




124 IGN^OKAl^^CE AND INCOMPETENCE. 

patient watching, that they were enabled to render 
this small service to their country's defenders ; for no 
telegram announced the coming of the hungry men, 
nor for long and weary months was a system devised 
for the comfort and solace of the soldiers, as they 
passed to and from the battle-field. Many became ill 
or exhausted from exposure, but no relief was fur- 
nished. 

Rarely were preparations made for their reception. 
" Men stood for hours in a broiling sun, or drenching 
rain, waiting for rations and shelter, while their igno- 
rant and inexperienced Commissaries and Quarter- 
masters were slowly and painfully learning the duties 
of their positions. At last, utterly worn out and dis- 
gusted, they reached their camps, where they received 
rations as unwholesome as distasteful, and endeav- 
ored to recruit their wasted energies while lying 
upon rotten straw, wrapped in a shoddy blanket." 
Such fearful misery contrasted sadly with the cheer- 
ful scenes they had left, and if it did not cool their 
enthusiasm for the national cause, it developed an 
alarming prevalence of camp diseases, which might 
have been prevented, if efficient military discipline 
had prevailed. 

The hospital arrangements, in the early part of the 
war, were as pitiful and inadequate as were the facili- 
ties for transportation. Any building Avas considered 
fit for a hospital ; and the suffering endured by army 
patients, in the unsuitable buildings into which they 
W'ere crowded during the first year of the war can 
never be estimated. Before the war there was no such 
establishment as a General Hospital in the army. 
All military hospitals were post hospitals, and the 
largest contained but forty beds. There was no 



THE ELOWER OF OUR YOUTH. 125 

trained, efficient medical staff. There were no well- 
instructed nurses, no sick-diet kitchens, no prompt 
supply of proper medicines, and no means of hu- 
manely transporting the sick and wounded. Our 
entire military and medical systems, which seemed 
well nigh perfect at last, were created in the very 
midst of the war. 

All this was the more keenly felt by our volunteer 
soldiers, because they were, in the beginning, men of 
remarkable character and spirit. They were not 
reared in dissolute camps, nor raked from the slums 
of the cities. The}^ were the floAver of our youth, 
young men who not unfrequently had been tenderly 
reared by mothers, to whom young wives had sur- 
rendered the keeping of their happiness, and who had 
faithfully discharged their duties in time of peace. 
They sprang, at the call of their country, from the 
workshop, the counting-room, the farm, the college, 
the profession, the church, the Sunday-school and 
Bible-class, ready to lay down their lives for their 
country, if it were necessary. All the more sensi- 
tive were such men to the neglect of government and 
the incapacity of officers. 

I maintained a somewhat extensive correspondence 
with many of these young citizen soldiers throughout 
the war. Their letters lie before me. One of the 
volunteers of the Chicago Light Artillery, writing 
from " Camp Smith, near Cairo, 111.," June 2, 1861, 
says : — 

My departure from Chicago was very unceremonious. 1 had 
not time to say " good-bye " to my father and mother, to say 
nothmg of my friends ; but I resolved, when the first gun was 
fired at Sumter, if the government should call for men to sustain 
the honor of the country, not to be the last to offer. A young 
man cannot sacrifice too much in this cause ; and every man in my 



126 KABE PATRIOTISM. 

company is of this mind. Not a man among us but has left a 
lucrative situation, and is undergoing many privations for the 
country's service. Not a man here knows as yet, or is anxious to 
know, what pay he is to receive for his services. To know that 
we have done our duty Avill be sufficient pay for most of us. 

The government has done very little for us yet. My fiiends 
at home gave me a capital outfit, and I am prepared for all kinds 
of weather. Many of our men are not so fortunate. Many are 
sick from exposure and lack of j^roper protection. For these we 
need very badly, beds, blankets, pillows, socks, and something in 
the way of food besides " hardtack and salt junk." But nobody 
complains ; for we know the administration is heavily burdened, 
and has everything to do, and that all has been done for us tliat 
could be done, during the time that we have been in camp. We 
are eaten up by mosquitoes, and maintain a constant warfare with 
every kind of insect and " creeping thing." 

Another, belonging to the Fifth "Wisconsin, writ- 
ing from " Camp Griffen, near "Washington, D. C," 
I^OY. 12, 1861, tells a similar story : — 

I suppose you would like to hear what we are doing in Vir- 
ginia in the way of bringing the rebels to subjection. As yet we 
have done little fighting, but have lost a large number of men. 
They are dying daily in the camps and hospitals, from pneumonia, 
dysentery, and camp diseases, caused by severe colds, exposure, 
and lack of proper food when ill. We have taken very heavy 
colds lying on our arms in line of battle, long frosty nights. For 
two days and nights there was a very severe storm, to which we 
were exposed all the time, wearing shoddy uniforms and protected 
only by shoddy blankets, and the result was a frightful amount of 
sickness. We have about thirty in our regimental hospital who 
will never again be good for anything, if they live. 

Our hospitals are so bad that the men fight against being sent 
to them. They will not go until they are compelled, and many 
brave it out and die in camp. I really believe they are more com- 
fortable and better cared for in camp, Avith their comrades, than 
in hospital. The food is the same in both places, and the medical 
treatment the same when there is any. In the hospital the sick 
men lie on rotten straw ; in the camp we provide clean hemlock 
or pine boughs, with the stems cut out, or husks, when we can 
"jerk" them from a "secesh" cornfield. 



WRETCHED HOSPITALS. 127 

In the hospital the nurses are " convalescent soldiers," so nearly- 
sick themselves that they ought to be in the wards, and from their 
very feebleness they are selfish and sometimes inhuman in their 
treatment of the patients. In the camj) we stout heai'ty fellows 
take care of the sick, — rough in our management, I doubt not, 
but we do not fail for lack of strength or interest. If we could 
be sure of being half-way well cared for when we get sick or 
wounded, it would take immensely from the horrors of army life. 

We need beds and bedding, hospital clothing and sick-diet, 
proper medicines, surgical instruments, and good nurses, — and 
then a decent building or a good hospital tent for the accommoda- 
tion of our sick. I suppose we shall have them when the govern- 
ment can get round to it, and in the meantime we try to be 
l^atient. 

One of the writers of these letters was a teacher, 
and the other was in his sophomore year in college, 
when the war began. Similar letters, from equally 
intelligent sources were written to parties through- 
out the country, and they quickly found their way 
into print. 

The same lack of sanitary care and proper food 
complained of in these letters had wrought fearful 
havoc in the British army, in the war of the Crimea, 
in 1855, only six years before, and the American 
people remembered it. Out of twenty-four thousand 
troops sent to the Crimea, eighteen thousand had 
died in less than nine months, — a mortality, it has 
been said, " never equalled since the hosts of Sen- 
,nacherib fell in a single night." They died from 
lack of care, proper sanitary regulations, and the diet 
necessary to the sick. With their slowly dimming 
eyes they could see the vessels anchored in the har- 
bor, freighted with the food and medicine, clothing 
and tenting, sanitary supplies and preventives, for 
want of which they were perishing. 

All were tied up with the red tape of official 



128 FRIGHTFUL WASTE OF LIFE. 

formalism until Florence l^ightingale, with her corps 
of trained nurses, and full power to do and command, 
as well as advise, landed at Scutari, and ordered the 
storehouses opened. Then want gave place to 
abundance, and, through her executive skill and 
knowledge of nursing and hospital management, the 
frightful mortality was arrested. 

There was a resolute determination in the hearts 
of the people, that neither inexperience nor dogged 
adherence to routine should cause such wholesale 
slaughter of their beloved citizen soldiers. Whether 
sick oi- well, they should receive such care as the 
soldiers of no nation had ever known before, l^o 
failure of their plans of relief abated their ardor, and 
no discouragement stayed the stream of their benefi- 
cence. Especially did women refuse to release their 
hold on the men of their households, even when the 
government had organized them into an ai'my. 
They followed them with letters of inquiry, with 
tender anxiety and intelligent prevision, which event- 
ually put them en rapjiort with the government, and 
developed a wonderful system of sanitary prevention 
and relief. For the outcome of their patriotism and 
zeal, their loyalty and love, was the Sanitary Com- 
mission. 

" The Woman's Central Association of Relief" 
was the name of a large and remarkable organiza- 
tion, formed in the city of ]!^ew York, vei'y early in 
the war. In connection with other similar organiza- 
tions, they decided to send a committee to Washing- 
ton, to learn, from the highest authorities, " in what 
way the voluntary offerings of the people could best 
be made available for the I'elief of the army." 

Dr. Bellows was chairman of this committee, and 



AIM OF THE SA:NITARY COMMISSION. 129 

before he returned from Washington, a plan of or- 
ganization for the U. S. Sanitary Commission, drawn 
up by himself, received the sanction of the President 
and the Secretary of War. I^ot heartily, however, 
for the very highest officials of the government 
regarded the whole plan as quixotic, and consented 
to it only because " it could do no harm." President 
Lincoln himself failed at first to comprehend the 
large humanity of the organization, and described it 
as " a fifth wheel to the coach." But for the zeal, 
intelligence and earnestness of his numerous women 
constituents, it is more than probable that Dr. Bel- 
lows would have retreated before the rebuffs and 
hindrances opposed to his humane efforts. 

The object of the Sanitary Commission was to do 
what the government could not. The government 
undertook, of course, to provide all that was neces- 
sary for the soldier, whether sick or in health; 
whether in the army or hospital. But, from the very 
nature of things, this was not possible, and it failed 
in its purpose, at times, as all governments do, from 
occasional and accidental causes. The methods of 
the Commission were so elastic, and so arranged to 
meet any emergency, that it was able to make provis- 
ion for any need, seeking always to supplement, and 
never to supplant, the government. It never forgot 
that " it must be subordinate to army rules and regu- 
lations, and in no way break down the essential 
military discipline, on the observance of which every- 
thing depended." 

In a few months, the baseless prejudice against the 
Commission melted away. The army surgeons, at 
first opposed, became enthusiastic in its praise. 
And the people, who were, in the outset, bent on 



130 AIM OF THE SANITAEY C0MMISSI0:N". 

dispensing their charities only to the companies and 
regiments organized in their neighborhoods, came 
finally to accept the larger methods of the Commis- 
sion, which disbursed the sanitary supplies it received 
to any hospitals or soldiers that needed them, Avith- 
out regard to sectional limits. The government ac- 
corded to the Commission increased facilities for 
performing its work. The railroads transported all 
its freight free of charge — the express companies 
carried its packages at half price — and the telegraph 
companies remitted the usual charges on its mes- 
sages. 

The Commission did a more extensive work than 
was at first contemplated, or is to-day generally 
known. It sent inspectors, who were always medical 
men, to the army, to report on the " quality of rations 
and water — the method of camp cooking — veutila- 
tion of tents and quarters — the drainage of the 
camp itself — the healthfulness of its site — the ad- 
ministration of the hospital — the police of the camp 
— the quality of the tents, and the material used for 
flooring them — the quality of the clothing, and the 
personal cleanliness of the men " — and other points of 
importance to the health and efiSciency of the army. 

It also caused to be prepared, by the best medical 
talent in the country^ eighteen concise ti'eatises on 
the best means of preserving health in camp, and 
on the treatment of the sick and wounded in hospital 
and on the battle-field. These were acknowledged 
by the surgeons to be of great value. 

It put nurses into the hospitals who had been 
trained for the work, and who, in addition to having 
aptitudes for the care of the sick, were attracted to 
it by large humanity and patriotic zeal. 



ITS MULTIFORM BENEVOLENCE. 131 

It established a series of kettles on wheels, with 
small portable furnaces attached, in which soup was 
quickly made in the rear of battle-fields, for the faint 
and wounded, even while the battle was in progress. 

It invented hospital cars, for the humane transpor- 
tation of the wounded, in which the ordinary hospital 
bed was suspended by stout tugs of india rubber, 
preventing jolting. 

It maintained forty " Soldiers' Homes," or 
"Lodges," scattered all along the route of the 
army, and over the whole field of war, which were 
free hotels for destitute soldiers, separated from 
their regiments, or passing back and forth, with 
neither money, rations, nor transportation. Over 
eight hundred thousand soldiers were entertained 
in them, and four and a half million meals, and a 
million nights' lodgings were gratuitously furnished. 

It established a " Claim Agency," to secure the 
bounty of the soldiers, when, by some neglect or 
informality, it had been kept back. It opened a 
" Pension Agency," whose name explains its office. 
It arranged a " Back Pay Agency," which took the 
defective papers of the soldiers, on which they could 
not draw their pay, regulated them, and in a few 
hours drew the money due them, sometimes securing 
twenty thousand dollars back pay in one day. 

It maintained a " Hospital Directory," through 
which information could be officially obtained con- 
cerning the invalids in the two hundred and thirty- 
three general hospitals of the army, and concerning 
others, reported as " missing," and " fate unknown." 
In the four offices of the Directory, at Washington, 
Philadelphia, 'New York, and Louisville, there were, 
recorded the names of more than six hundred thou- 



132 " BATTLE-FIELD RELIEF." 

sand men, with the latest information procurable in 
regard to them. 

The Commission also methodized a system of 
" Battle-Field Relief," which did much to mitigate 
the horrors inevitable to battles. Its agents were 
always on the field during an engagement, with 
surgeons, ambulances, and store wagons, with anses- 
thetics, surgical instruments, and every species of 
relief. They rendered invaluable aid, and were 
sometimes in advance of the government in their 
ministrations on the field of conflict. There were 
over six hundred pitched battles between the two 
hostile forces during the War of the Rebellion. His- 
tory will record only a very few of them as " great 
battles." The suffering and horror incident to those 
were so immeasurable, that they could be only par- 
tially relieved ; and had the ability of the govern- 
ment and of all the volunteer agencies of the country 
been tenfold greater than they were, they would have 
been inadequate to the awful necessities of those ti- 
tanic conflicts. 

After the battle of Antietam, where ten thousand 
of om' own wounded were left on the field, besides 
a large number of the enemy, the Commission dis- 
tributed " 28,763 pieces of dry goods, shirts, towels, 
bed-ticks, pillows, etc.; 30 barrels of old linen, ban- 
dages, and lint; 3,188 pounds of farina; 2,620 
pounds of condensed milk; 5,000 pounds of beef- 
stock and canned meats; 3,000 bottles of wine and 
cordials; 4,000 sets of hospital clothing; several tons 
of lemons and other fruit; crackers, tea, sugar, rub- 
ber cloth, tin cups, chloroform, opiates, surgical 
instruments, and other hospital conveniences." 

After the battle of Shiloh, in the "West, where 



TEN THOUSAND AID SOCIETIES. 133 

nearly as many wounded men were left on the field 
as at Antietam, the Commission distributed " 11,448 
shirts; 3,686 pairs of drawers; 3,592 pairs of socks; 
2,777 bed-sacks; 543 pillows; 1,045 bottles of 
brandy, whiskey, and wine; 799 bottles of porter; 
941 lemons ; 20,316 pounds of dried fruit ; 7,577 cans 
of fruit; and 15,323 pounds of farinaceous food." 

Whence came these hospital supplies, or the money 
for their purchase? They were gathered by the 
loyal women of the JN^orth, who organized over ten 
thousand " aid societies " during the war, and who 
never flagged in their constancy to the cause of the 
sick and wounded soldier. As rapidly as possible, 
" branches " of the United States Sanitary Commis- 
sion were established in Boston, ]S^ew York, Phila- 
delphia, Cincinnati, Chicago, and other cities — ten 
in all. Here sub-depots of sanitary stores were 
maintained, and into these the soldiers' aid socie- 
ties poured their never-ceasing contributions. The 
supplies sent to these ten sub-depots were assorted, 
repacked, stamped with the mark of the Commission, 
only one kind of supplies being packed in a box, arid 
then a list of the contents was marked on the out- 
side. The boxes were then stored, subject to the 
requisitions of the great central distributing depots, 
established at Washington and Louisville. Through 
these two cities, all supplies of every kind passed to 
the troops at the front, who were contending with 
the enemy. 

A most rigid system was observed in the recep- 
tion, care, and disbursement of these hospital sup- 
plies; for the methods of the Sanitary Commission, 
through its entire system of agencies, were those of 
the best business houses. It was easy to trace the 



134 THE BUSY HEADQUARTERS. 

packages sent to hospitals back to their original con- 
tributors, vouchers being taken of those who re- 
ceived them, at every stage of their progress to their 
ultimate destination. Only a very insignificant frac- 
tion of them was lost or misused. 

Through all the branches of the Commission there 
was the same wisdom in planning, ability in execut- 
ing, and joyfulness in sacrifice. Into them all, were 
borne the suffering and patience of the soldier in the 
hospital, and the sorrow and anxiety of his family at 
home. Men en route to the front, full of manly 
strength and courage, and men en route from the 
camp or battle-field going home to die, invaded the 
busy " headquarters." People of all conditions and 
circumstances, wise and unwise, rich and poor, 
women and men, went thither for inspiration and di- 
rection. Scenes were there enacted and deeds per- 
formed w^hich transfigured human nature, and made 
it divine. It was there that one felt the pulse of the 
country, and measured its heart-beats. 

My own experience was with the Chicago Branch 
of the Sanitary Commission. And the brief resume 
of the varied phases of life that flowed and ebbed 
through its unpretentious rooms, which follows in 
the next chapter, will give the reader some idea of 
the patriotic zeal, the noble self-denial, and organized 
work of the women of the war, in which they were 
grandly assisted by men. 



CHAPTER lY. 

MY FIRST CONNECTION WITH THE SANITAEY COMMISSION — 
HOME SUPPLIES FOR THE SOLDIERS — A PEEP INTO THE 
BOXES— LETTERS FOUND INSIDE — ODD CONTRIBUTIONS. 

Local Societies merged in the Commission — Become identified with the 
Chicago Branch — The Secrets of the Boxes of SuppHes — Notes packed 
in with the Clothing — They are tender, pathetic, heroic, and comic — 
A letter-writing Army — " Consecrated Chicken, be jabers! " — " Butter 
an' Chase, bedad!" — "Comfort-bags" — "Benedictions" in the Mur- 
freesboro' and Vicksburg Boxes — "One Box a Month" — Ingenious 
Wisconsin Farmers' Wives — Women in the Harvest-field — A Talk with 
them — Generosity of a " Tailoress " — The " five-dollar gold Piecd " — 
"Matches! Matches!." — Afraid of a Kiss — Children's sanitaiy Fairs 
— Gift of a five-year old Boy. 

'RGAOTZATIOIS'S of women for the relief 
of sick and wounded soldiers, and for the 
care of soldiers' families, were formed with 
great spontaneity at the very beginning of 
the war. There were a dozen or more of 
them in Chicago, in less than a month after 
Cairo was occupied by l!^orthern troops. They 
raised money, prepared and forwarded supplies of 
whatever was demanded, every shipment being ac- 
companied by some one who was held responsible 
for the proper disbursement of the stores. Sometimes 
these local societies affiliated with, or became parts of, 
more comprehensive organizations. Most of them 
9 135 




SECRETS OF THE BOXES. 

independently during the first year of the 
wai , viie Sanitary Commission of Chicago being only 
one of the relief agencies. But the Commission 
gradually grew in public confidence, and gained in 
scope and power; and all the local societies were 
eventually merged in it, or became auxiliary to it. 
As in Chicago, so throughout the country. The San- 
itary Commission became the great channel, through 
which the patriotic beneficence of the nation flowed 
to the army. 

When the local aid society of which I was presi- 
dent, merged its existence in that of the Sanitary 
Commission, I also became identified with it. Thence- 
forth, until the bells rang in the joyful news of peace, 
my time and energy were given to its varied work. 
In its busy rooms I was occupied most of the time 
when not in the hospitals, or engaged with some of 
the ^Northwestern soldiers' aid societies. 

Here, day after day, the drayman left boxes of sup- 
plies sent from aid societies in Iowa, Minnesota, 
Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois, and Indiana. Every 
box contained an assortment of articles, a list of 
which was tacked on the inside of the lid. These 
were taken out, stamped in indelible ink with the 
name of the " Chicago Sanitary Commission," the 
stamp as broad as your hand, and the letters so large 
as to be easily read across a room. For the con- 
venience of the hospitals they were repacked, — 
shirts by themselves, drawers by themselves, and so 
on. Then they awaited orders from the hospitals. 

One day I went into the packing-room to learn the 
secrets of these boxes, — every one an argosy of love, 
— and took notes during the unpacking. A capa- 
cious box, filled with beautifully made shirts, drawers, 



NOTES FOLDED IK THE GARMENTS. 137 

towels, socks, and handkerchiefs, with " comfort- 
bags " containing combs, pins, needles, court-plaster, 
and black sewing-cotton, and with a quantity of 
carefully dried berries and peaches, contained the 
following unsealed note, lying on top: — 

Dear Soldiers, — The little girls of send this box to you. 

They hear that thirteen thousand of you are sick, and have been 
wounded in battle. They are very sorry, and want to do some- 
thing for you. They cannot do much, for they are all small ; but 
they have bought with their own money, and made what is in here. 
They hope it will do some good, and that you will all get well and 
come home. We all pray to God for you night and morning. 

The box was carefully unpacked, each article 
stamped with the mark of the Commission, as a pre- 
ventive to theft, and then carefully repacked just as 
it was received. That sacred offering of childhood 
was sent intact to the hospital. 

Another mammoth packing-case was opened, and 
here were folded in blessings and messages of love 
with almost every garment. On a pillow was pinned 
the following note, unsealed, for sealed notes were 
never broken : — 

My Dear Friend, — You are not my husband nor son ; but you 
are the husband or son of some woman who undoubtedly loves 
you as I love mine. I have made these garments for you with a 
heart that aches for your sufferings, and with a longing to come to 
you to assist in taking care of you. It is a great comfort to me 
that God loves and pities you, pining and lonely in a far-off hospi- 
tal ; and if you believe in God, it will also be a comfort to you. 
Are you near death, and soon to cross the dark river ? Oh, then, 
may God soothe your last hours, and lead you up " the shining 
shore," where there is no war, no sickness, no death. Call on 
Him, for He is an ever-present helper. 

Large packages of socks, carefully folded in pairs 
in the same box, contained each a note, beautifully 



138 "there's a good time coming!" 

written, and signed with the name and address of the 
writer. They were as various as the authors. Here 
is one : — 

Deab Soldier, — If these socks had language they would tell 
you that many a kind wish for you has been knit into them, and 
many a tear of pity for you has bedewed them. We all think of 
you, and want to do evei-ything we can for you ; for we feel that 
we owe you unlimited love and gratitude, and that you deserve 
the very best at our hands. 

Here is another, of a different character : — 

My Dear Boy, — I have knit these socks expressly for you. 
How do you like them ? How do you look, and where do you live 
when you are at home? I am nineteen years old, of medium 
height, of slight build, with blue eyes, fair complexion, light hair, 
and a good deal of it. Write and tell me all about yourself, and 
how you get on in the hospitals. Direct to . 

P. S. If the recipient of these socks has a wife, will he please 
exchange socks with some poor fellow not so fortunate ? 

And here is yet another : — 

My Brave Friend, — I have learned to knit on purpose to 
knit socks for the soldiers. This is my fourth pair. My name 

is , and I live in . Write to me, and tell me how you 

like the foot-gear and what we can do for you. Keep up good 
courage, and by and by you will come home to us. Won't that 
be a grand time, though? And won't we all turn out to meet 
you, with flowers and music, and cheers and embraces? " There's 
a good time coming, boys ! " 

Yery many of these notes were answered b}'^ the 
soldiers who received them, and a corresjDondence 
ensued, which sometimes ended in hfelong friend- 
ship, and, in some instances which came to my 
knowledge, in marriage. 

A nicely made dressing-gown, taken from one of 
the boxes, of dimensions sufficiently capacious for 
Daniel Lambert, had one huge pocket filled with 
hickory nuts, and the other with ginger-snaps. The 



" I HOPE they'll choke HIM ! " 139 

pockets were sewed across to prevent the contents 
from dropping out, and the following note was 
pinned on the outside : — 

Mv Dear Fellow, — Just take your ease in this dressing 
gown. Don't mope and have the blues, if you are sick. Moping 
never cured anybody yet. Eat your nuts and cakes, if you are 
well enough, and snap your fingers at dull care. I wish I could 
do more for you, and if I were a man I would come and fight 
with you. Woman though I am, I'd like to help hang Jeff 
Davis higher than Haman — yes, and all who aid and abet him, 
too, whether North or South ! 

There was exhumed from one box a bushel of 

cookies, tied m a pillow-case, with this benevolent 

wish tacked on the outside : — 

These cookies are expressly for the sick soldiers, and if any- 
body else eats them, I hope they will choke him I 

A very neatly arranged package of second-hand 
clothing, but little worn, was laid by itself. Every 
article was superior in quality and in manufacture. 
Attached to it was a card with the following expla- 
nation, in most exquisite chirography: — 

The accompanying articles were worn for the last time by 
one very dear to the writer, who lost his life at Shiloh. They are 
sent to our wounded soldiers as the most fitting disposition that 
can be made of them, by one who has laid the husband of her 
youth — her all — on the altar of her country. 

Rarely was a box opened that did not contain 
notes to soldiers, accompanying the goods. In the 
pocket of one dressing-gown, a baby's tin rattle was 
found — in another, a small china doll, tastefully 
dressed — in another, a baby's photograph — in yet 
another, a comic almanac. In every box was a good 
supply of stoutly made " comfort-bags." A " com- 
fort-bag" usually contained a small needle-book, 
with a dozen stout needles in it, a well-filled pin- 



140 " COMFORT-BAGS." 

ball, black and white thread, buttons, etc. These 
" little usefuls," as the boys called them, were inval- 
uable to the handy fellows, who very often became 
skilful extempore tailors. 

As whittling and wood-carving Avere among the 
prime amusements of the hospital, a jack-knife was 
added, and generally a pair of scissors. Sometimes 
a square piece of tobacco was included among the 
miscellanies, nor was the " comfort-bag " considered 
less valuable in consequence. Often a small Testa- 
ment increased the value of the little bag, with the 
name and residence of the donor on the fly-leaf. 

And if the comfort-bag contained no letter, with a 
stamped envelope, and blank sheet of paper added, 
its recipient was a little crestfallen. The sta- 
tionery was rarely forgotten. Folded in the sleeves 
of shirts, tucked in pockets, wrapped in ' handker- 
chiefs, and rolled in socks, were envelopes with 
stamps affixed, containing blank sheets of note 
paper, and usually a pencil was added. The sol- 
diers expressed their need of stationery in almost 
every letter they wrote. Most of the letters sent 
to the army contained stamped envelopes, and 
paper, for the men were without money so much 
of the time, that when the sutlers had stationery for 
sale at exorbitant prices, the soldiers were unable to 
buy it. 

There never was an army so intent on correspond- 
ing with the kindred and friends left behind. If 
you went into any camp at any time, you would see 
dozens, and sometimes hundreds, of soldiers writing 
letters. Some would be stretched at full length on 
the ground, with a book or a knapsack for a table — 
some sitting upright against the trunks of trees, with 



A LETTER-WBITING ARMY. 141 

the paper resting" on their drawn-up knees — others 
would stand and write. The average number of let- 
ters sent to the army on the Atlantic coast was forty- 
five thousand daily. An equally large number was 
sent througli the mails by the soldiers, making an 
aggregate of ninety thousand daily letters that passed 
through the post-office at Washington. About the 
same number were carried by the mails to and from 
Louisville, these two cities being the gateways to the 
army during the war. One hundred and eighty 
thousand daily letters received and answered, created 
a demand for stationery, which in the army it was 
not always easy to supply. On one day of the 
week preceding the battle of Pittsburg Landing, or 
Shiloh, there were sold to the soldiers, from the 
Pittsburg post-office, seven hundred dollars worth of 
postage-stamps. Who wonders that our army fought 
like heroes? 

Over and over again, with unnecessary emphasis 
and cruel frequency, officers, surgeons, and nurses 
were adjured, through notes in the boxes, to bestow 
on the sick and wounded the comforts and delicacies 
contained in the cases. There was more honesty in 
the hospitals, and much less stealing by the officials, 
than was popularly believed. 

" For the love of God, give these articles to the sick and 
wounded, to whom they are sent ! " 

" He that Avould steal from a sick or wounded man would rob 
hen-roosts, or filch pennies from the eyes of a corpse ! " 

"Surgeons and nurses, hands off! These things are not for 
you, but for your patients, — our sick and wounded boys ! " 

" Don't gobble up these delicacies, nurses ! They are for the 
boys in hospital ! " 

Similar injunctions were found tacked on the in- 
side lid of many boxes, or stared us in the face in 



142 "IT SMELLS TOO LOUD rN^TIRELT! " 

startling colored capitals, when the cover was ham- 
mered oft*. 

Occasionally the opening of a box revealed an 
unwise selection of donations, or a careless prepara- 
tion of them. A packing-case was opened one morn- 
ing, smooth and polished without and neatly jointed, 
when an overpoweriitg odor smote the olfactories, 
that drove every one from the room. It was as if a 
charnel-house had been opened. Windows and doors 
were flung wide to let in the fresh air, and a second 
attempt was made to examine the odoriferous box. 
The intolerable stench proceeded from " concenti-ated 
chicken," which had been badly prepared. The box 
had been some time on the journey, and the nicely 
cooked chicken had become a mass of corruption. 
" Be jabers ! " said Irish Jimmy, the drayman, as he 
wheeled the box back into the " receiving-room," " I 
hope the Icddies — God bless 'em! — won't send 
enny more of their consecrated chicken this way, for 
it smells too loud intirely." 

Another box came from the depot completely be- 
smeared with honey, leaking from within. Irish 
Jimmy pronounced it "grease," and, always ready 
with an opinion, declared that "the leddies were gittin' 
no sinse at all, to be afther sindin' grease in a box, 
loose like that, and the weather jist hot enough to 
cook ye ! " When told that the Sanitary Commission 
called for no "grease," he ventured the sagacious 
opinion that it was " butter and chase inside, bedad ! 
and by the howly Moses! thej^'d a jist melted in the 
great heat and run together. And shure ! that was 
grease, and nobody could deny it." Two large boxes 
of honey in the comb had been packed with hospital 
clothing. In transportation the honey had drained 



" WE ARE PEOUD OF THE BOYS ! " 143 

from the comb, leaving it empty and broken, and 
had saturated the contents of the box. 

Many of the boxes for the wounded at Murfrees- 
boro' and Yicksburg, and packed for them especially, 
contained indications of the deepest feeling. " We 
send these supplies to the noble boys that beat back 
Bragg's army ! We are proud of them ! " " Three 
cheers for Eosecrans' army!" "Dear wounded sol- 
diers ! we shall never forget your gallant conduct at 
Murfreesboro' and Stone River! " "May God place 
his everlasting arms of love underneath you, my dear 
wounded brothers!" These and like benedictions 
were affixed to almost every article. 

In looking over the contents of the boxes as they 
were unpacked, one realized the passionate interest 
in the war felt by the women of the Il^orth. They 
toiled, economized, and retrenched to furnish the 
necessary supplies to the hospitals, and then hallowed 
them with a patriotic and religious spirit. They 
flung heart and soul into the labor of their willing 
hands, until the articles of their manufacture were 
redolent of blessings and affection. Then, pouring 
out their souls in written ejaculations of love and in 
tender benedictions, they forwarded these to the 
soldiers with the material comforts. 

The aid societies were asked to contribute one box 
of hospital supplies a month, and this was the stand- 
ard of efficiency upheld throughout the war. Some 
did much more than this, and some less; but the 
standard was never lowered. As there were nearly 
four thousand aid societies in existence in the ISTorth- 
west, auxiliary to the Chicago Branch of the Sanitary 
Commission, and as over seventy thousand boxes 
were received, or were packed and forwarded from 



144 "where there's a will, there's a way!" 

our rooms to Southern hospitals, it is evident that the 
women in the newly settled and sparsely populated 
states did not shirk the duties which the war imposed 
on them. They rifled their houses of whatever hed- 
linen could be spared; denied their families canned 
and dried fruit; retrenched in the use of butter and 
eggs, that they might have more to take to market, 
and so more money to bestow on the soldiers; held 
festivals and dime parties; gave concerts; got up 
fairs, — in short, their ingenuity was as limitless as 
their patriotism. 

Some farmers' wives in the north of Wisconsin, 
eighteen miles from a railroad, had donated to the 
hospitals of their bed and table linen, of their hus- 
bands' shirts, drawers, and socks, until the}'^ had 
exhausted their ability in this direction. While the 
need lasted, they could not be satisfied to remain 
inactive, and so cast about to see what could be done 
by new and untried methods. They were the wives 
of small farmers, lately moved to the West, and liv- 
ing in log cabins, — where one room sufficed for 
kitchen, pai-lor, laundry, nursery, and bedroom, — 
doing their own housewoi-k, sewing, baby-tending, 
and dairy- work. What could women do so burdened, 
hampered, and straitened? "Where there's a will, 
there's a way." 

They resolved to beg wheat of the neighboring 
farmers, and turn it into money. Sometimes on 
foot, sometimes with a team, amid the snows and 
mud of early spring, they canvassed the country for 
twenty and thirty miles around, everywhere elo- 
quently pleading the needs of the blue-coated boys 
in the hospitals, — their earnest speech proving an 
open sesame to the granaries. Now they obtained 



A SACRED BANK-CHECK. 145 

a little from a rich man, then a large quantity from a 
poor man — deeds of benevolence are half the time 
in an inverse ratio to the ability of the benefactors 

— till they had accumulated nearly five hundred 
bushels of wheat. This they sent to market, when 
they could obtain the highest market price, and 
forwarded the money to me, to be given the Sanitary 
Commission. Knowing the history of their con- 
tribution, their bank-check had a sac redness in my 
eyes. 

During the war I was called into the country on 
frequent errands. Sometimes it was to organize aid 
societies — sometimes to attend mass conventions, 
called for inspiration and instruction in the work to 
be done. The attendance was increased by a natu- 
ral desire for social enjoyment, which the necessities 
of the times greatly abridged. Sometimes a meeting 
would be called in a large town for the double pur- 
pose of stimulating hospital supplies and enlistments 

— sometimes I went in charge of soldiers, too ill or 
enfeebled from wounds to be sent alone. On these 
trips I noticed a great increase of women engaged 
in outdoor work, and especially during the times of 
planting, cultivating, and harvesting. 

In the early summer of 1863, frequent calls of 
business took me through the extensive farming dis- 
tricts of Wisconsin, and Eastern Iowa, when the 
farmers were the busiest, gathering the wheat har- 
vest. As we dashed along the railway, let our 
course lead in whatever direction it might, it took us 
through what seemed a continuous wheat-field. The 
yellow grain was waving everywhere ; and two-horse 
reapers were cutting it down in a wholesale fashion 
that would have astonished Eastern farmers. Hun- 



146 WOMEI^ IN THE HARVEST-FIELD. 

dreds of reapers could be counted in a ride of half a 
dozen hours. The crops were generally good, and 
in some instances heavy, and every man and boy w^as 
pressed into service to secure the abundant harvest 
while the weather was fine. 

Women were in the field everywhere, driving the 
reapers, binding and shocking, and loading grain, 
until then an unusual sight. At first, it displeased 
me, and I turned away in aversion. By and by, I 
observed how skilfully they drove the horses round 
and round the wheat-field, diminishing more and 
more its periphery at every circuit, the glittering 
blades of the reaper cutting wide swaths with a 
rapid, clicking sound, that was pleasant to hear. 
Then I saw that when they followed the reapers, 
binding and shocking, although they did not keep 
up with the men, their work was done with more 
precision and nicety, and their sheaves had an artis- 
tic finish that those lacked made by the men. So I 
said to myself, " They are worthy women, and deserve 
praise : their husbands are probably too poor to hire 
help, and, like the ' helpmeets ' God designed them 
to be, they have girt themselves to this work — and 
they are doing it superbly. Good wives! good 
women ! " 

One day my route took me ofi" the railway, some 
twenty miles across the country. But we drove 
through the same golden fields of grain, and between 
great stretches of green waving corn, ^ow a river 
shimmered like silver through the gold of the wheat 
and oats, and now a growth of young timber made a 
dark green background for the harvest fields. Here, 
as everywhere, women were busy at the harvesting. 

" I've got to hold up a spell, and rig up this 'ere 



" ALL THREE OF 'eM 'LISTED ! " 147 

harness," said my driver ; " something's got out 
o' kilter." And the carriage halted opposite a field 
where half a dozen women and two men were har- 
vesting. ^N^ot a little curious to know what these 
women reapers were like, I walked over and accosted 
them. 

" And so you are helping gather the harvest I " I 
said to a woman of forty-five or fifty, who sat on the 
reaper to drive, as she stopped her horses for a brief 
breathing spell. Her face was pleasant and comely, 
although sunburned, with honest, straightforward 
eyes, a broad brow, and a mouth that indicated firm- 
ness and tenderness. Her dress, a strong calico, Avas 
worn without hoops, then thought essential on all oc- 
casions, and she was shod with stout boots, and wore 
a shaker bonnet. 

" Yes, ma'am," she said ; " the men have all gone 
to the war, so that my man can't hire help at any 
price, and I told my girls we must turn to and 
give him a lift with the harvestin'." 

" You are not German ? You are surely one of 
my own countrywomen — American ? " 

"Yes, ma'am ; we moved here from Cattaraugus 
county, IN^ew York state, and we've done very well 
since we came." 

" Have you sons in the army? " 

" Yes," and a shadow fell over the motherly face, 
and the honest eyes looked out mournfully into va- 
cancy. " All three of 'em 'listed, and JS^eddy, the 
youngest, was killed at the battle of Stone River, the 
last day of last year. My man, he went down to get 
his body, but he came back without it. There were 
nine thousand of our men left dead on the field 
there, and our ^N^eddy's body couldn't be found 



148 A NOBLE MOTHER AXD DAUGHTERS. 

among so many. It came very hard on ns to let the 
boys go, but we felt we'd no right to hinder 'em. 
The country needed 'em more'n we. We've money 
enough to hii-e help if it could be had ; and my man 
don't like to have me and the girls a-workin' out- 
doors; but there don't seem no help for it now." 

I stepped over where the girls were binding the 
fallen grain. They were fine, well-built lasses, with' 
the honest eyes and firm mouth of the mother, brown 
like her, and clad in the same sensible costume. 

" Well, you are like your mother, not afraid to 
lend a hand at the harvesting, it seems!" was my 
opening remark. 

"No, we're willing to help outdoors in these 
times. Harvesting isn't any hardei-, if it's as hard 
as cooking, washing, and ironing, over a red-hot 
stove in July and August — only we have to do both 
now. My three brothers went into the army, all my 
cousins, most of the young men about here, and the 
men we used to hire. So there's no help to be got 
but women, and the crops must be got in all the same, 
you know." 

"One of our German women," said another of the 
girls, " tells us we don't know anything about war 
yet. For during the last war in Germany men were 
so scarce that she had to work three yeai'S in a black- 
smith's shop- You wouldn't think it, though, if you 
should see her. That would be rather tough, but I 
tell Annie we can do anything to help along while 
the country's in such trouble." 

" I tell mother," said the Annie referred to, stand- 
ing very erect, with flashing eyes, " that as long 
as the country can't get along without grain, nor 
the army fight without food, we're serving the coun- 



"AS GOOD A BINDER AS A MAN." 149 

try just as much here in the harvest-field as our 
boys are on the battle-fiekl — and that sort o' takes 
the edge off from this business of doing men's work, 
you know." And a hearty laugh followed this state- 
ment. 

Another one of the women was the wife of one 
of the soldier sons, with a three-year-old boy tod- 
dling beside her, tumbling among the sheaves, and 
getting into mischief every five minutes. His mother 
declared that he was " more plague than profit." 
From her came the same hearty assent to the work 
which the distress of the country had imposed on 
her. And she added, with a kind of homely pride, 
that she was considered " as good a binder as a man, 
and could keep up with the best of 'em." 

Further conversation disclosed the fact that amid 
their double labor in the house and field, these 
women found time for the manufacture of hospital 
supplies, and had helped to fill box after box with 
shirts and drawers, dried apples and pickles, currant 
wine and blackberry jam, to be forwarded to the poor 
fellows languishing in far-off Southern hospitals. 
My eyes were unsealed. The women in the harvest- 
field were invested with a new and heroic interest, 
and each hard-handed, brown, toiling woman was a 
heroine. When the driver called to me that he had 
mended the broken harness, I bade the noble har- 
vesters " good-bye," assuring them that they were the 
" peers of the women of the Revolution." 

A poor girl, who called herself a " tailoress," came 
one day to the rooms of the Commission. 

" I do not feel right," she said, " that I am doing 
nothing for our soldiers in the hospitals. I must do 
something immediately. Which do you prefer — that 



150 GIFT OF A SEWING-GIRL. 

I should give money, or buy material and manufac- 
ture it into hospital clothing?" 

" You must be governed by your circumstances," 
was the answer made her. " We need both money 
and supplies, and you must do that which is most 
convenient for you," 

" I prefer to give money, if it will do as much 
good." 

" Very well, then, give money. We need it badly, 
and without it cannot do what is most necessary for 
our brave men." 

" I will give the Commission my net earnings for 
the next two weeks. I would give more, but my 
mother is an invalid, and I help support her. Usually 
I make but one vest a day, as I do ' custom work,' 
and am well paid for it. But these next two weeks, 
which belong to the soldiers, I shall work earlier and 
later." 

In two weeks she came again, the poor sewing 
girl, with a radiant face. Opening her porte-mon- 
naie, she counted out nineteen dollars and thirty- 
seven cents. She had stitched into the hours of 
midnight on every one of the working days of those 
two weeks. 

A little girl, not nine years old, with sweet and 
timid grace, entered one afternoon, and laid a five- 
dollar gold piece on my desk. Half-frightened, she 
told its story. " My uncle gave me that before the 
war, and I was going to keep it always. But he's 
got killed in the army, and, now mother says I may 
give it to the soldiers if I want to — and I'd like to. 
Will it buy much for them? " 

I led the child to the store-room, and pointed out 
to her what it would buy — so many cans of con- 



" IT WILL DO LOTS OF GOOD ! " 151 

densed milk, or so many bottles of ale, or so many 
pounds of tea or codfish, etc. Her face brightened 
with pleasure. But when I explained that her five- 
dollar gold piece was equal then to seven and a half 
dollars in greenbacks, and told her how much comfort 
could be carried into a hospital with the amount of 
stores it would purchase, she fairly danced for joy. 
" Why, my five dollars will do lots of good, won't 
it?" 

Folding her hands before her in a charmingly ear- 
nest way, she begged me to tell her something that 
I had seen in the hospitals. A narration of a few 
touching events, such as would not too severely 
shock the child, but which showed the necessity of 
continued benevolence to the hospitals, brought tears 
to her eyes, and the resolution to her lips, to " get all 
the girls to save their money to buy things for the 
wounded soldiers." And away she ran, happy in the 
luxury of doing good. 

A little urchin who often thrust his unkempt pate 
into the room, with the shrill cry of " Matches ! 
Matches!" had stood a little ajoart, watching the girl, 
and listening to the conversation. As she disap- 
peared, he fumbled in his pockets, and drew out a 
small handful of crumpled fractional currency, such 
as was then in use. '' Here," said he, " I'll give yer 
'suthin' for them are sick fellers! " And he put fifty- 
five cents in my hand, all in five-cent currency. I 
was surprised, and hesitated. 

" ISlo, my boy, don't give it. I am afraid you can- 
not afford it. You're a noble little fellow, but that is 
miore than you ought to give. You keep it, and I'll 
give fifty-five cents for you — or somebody else will." 

" Git eout! " was his disgusted commentary on my 

10 



152 "i ain't one o' that kissin' sort!" 

proposal. "Yer take it, now. P'raps I ain't so 
poor as yer tliink. My father, he saws wood, and 
my mother, she takes in washin', and I sells matches, 
and Tom, he sells papers, and p'raps we've got more 
money than yer think. Our Bob, he'd a gone to the 
war hisself, but he got his leg cut off on the railroad, 
in a smash-up. He was a brakeman, yer see. You 
take this, now ! " 

I took the crumpled currency. I forgot the boy's 
dirty face and tattered cap; I forgot that I had called 
the little tatterdemalion a " nuisance " every day for 
months, when he had caused me to jump from my 
seat with his shrill, unexpected cry of " Matches ! " 
and I actually stooped to kiss him. 

He divined my intention and darted out on the 
sidewalk as if he had been shot. 

" No, yer don't! " he said, shaking his tangled head 
at me, and looking as if he had escaped a great dan- 
ger. " I ain't one o' that kissin' sort ! " 

Ever after, when he met me, he gave me a wide 
berth, and walked off the sidewalk into the gutter, 
eyeing me with a suspicious, sidelong glance, as 
though he suspected I still thought of kissing him. 
If I spoke to him, he looked at me shyly and made 
no reply. But if I passed him without speaking, he 
challenged me with a hearty "Hullo, yer!" that 
brought me to an instant halt. 

During the July and August vacation of 1863, the 
little folks of Chicago were seized with a veritable 
sanitary-fair mania, — a blessed form of craze, which 
had had an extensive run among their elders during 
the winter and spring. These juvenile fairs were 
held on the lawns of 2^nvate houses, or, if it rained, 
in the large parlors, and they became immensely 



children's sanitary fairs. 153 

popular among the little people. They were planned 
and carried on exclusively by children from nine to 
sixteen years of age, who manifested no little 
shrewdness in their calculations, and ingenuity in 
their devices. In one fortnight these fairs netted 
the Commission about three hundred dollars in money 
— a handsome sum for children to make during the 
torrid holidays. 

I accepted a pressing invitation to one of these 
mimic bazars. A boy of eleven stood at the gate as 
custodian, gravely exacting and receiving the five 
cents admission fee. Another little chap, often, per- 
ambulated the sidewalks for a block or two, carrying 
a banner inscribed, " Sanitary Fair for the Sol- 
diers ! " and drumming up customers for his sisters 
under the trees. " Here's your Sanitary Fair for 
sick and wounded soldiers!" he shouted, imitating 
the candy vender who was licensed to sell his wares 
from a stand just around the corner. " All kinds of 
fancy goods, in the newest style, and cheap as dirt, 
and all for the soldiers! Walk up and buy, ladies 
and gentlemen, walk up ! " 

The fair tables were spread under the trees, with 
an assortment of toilet-mats, cushions, needle-books, 
pen-wipers, patriotic book-marks, dolls, and confec- 
tionery. The national colors floated over the little 
saleswomen, some of the very smallest sitting in high 
dinner-chairs, and all conducting their business with 
a dignity that provoked laughter. Big brothers and 
sisters stood behind them, ostensibly to assist in 
making change, but in reality because they enjoyed 
the aifair. The mimic traders stoutly resented their 
interference, declaring " they could make change 
themselves." One of the little gypsies shook back 



154 "div this to the soldiers!" 

her yellow curls, and, lifting her sunny face to the 
assembled buyers, announced that "they'd dot 
twenty-yree dollars already, and the fair hadn't but 
just begun." 

The fair mania extended into the country, and 
children's letters were daily received containing vari- 
ous sums of money netted by their little enterprises. 
A carriage stopped at the door of the Commission 
one day, and landed a black-eyed and rosy-cheeked 
boy at the office. He ran into the room with a two- 
dollar greenback in his extended hand. "I'm five 
years old to-day, and my dranpa div me this to buy 
some nuts and tandy. But tandy makes me sick, 
and I don't want none, and mamma says div it to the 
soldiers what gets shot." And back he ran, clamber- 
ing into the carriage without waiting to give his 
name or to be kissed. 

It was from these and similar sources, multiplied 
thousands of times, that the stream of supplies for the 
sick and weary of the army maintained its vast and 
constant proportions to the very close of the war. 
The supplies varied according to the needs of the 
men at the front. But whatever was the need as to 
quality, quantity, or cost, it was soon apparent that 
in the zeal and intense nationality of the women of 
the Xorth there was a certainty of its being sup- 
plied systematically and bountifully. l^o rebuffs 
could chill their zeal; no reverses repress their ar- 
dor; no discouragements weaken their devotion. 
The women had enlisted for the war. 



CHAPTER Y. 

AT THE ROOMS OF THE SANITARY COMMISSION — ITS WORK- 
ERS AND ITS VISITORS — HEART-RENDING SCENES AND 
INCIDENTS — THE RECORD OF A DAY. 

Rooms of the Chicago Commission — Tlie Din of Draymen and Packers — 
Sewing-Rooms for Soldiers' Families — " The Perfume of the Sanitary " 

— The dingy little Office — Immense Work performed in it — Judge 
Skinner, the President — Mr. Blatchford, Treasurer — The "Quartette" 
of the Office — John Freeman, the "Man of all Work" — William 
Goodsraith, our "Sheet-Anchor" — Mrs. Hoge, my Friend and Co- 
worker — Volunteer and transient Help — Women, Girls, and Soldiers 

— Drayloads of Boxes — Ladies seeking Information — Express Mes- 
sengers — The Morning Mail — The aged Father and his dead Son — 
"What ails the little Fellow?" — A Bevy of Nurses — A sorrow- 
stricken Mother — Soldiers from the City Hospitals — More loaded 
Drays — More Men and Women come and go — The Day declines — 
Return to my Home — "A Suburb of Heaven." 

'HE headquarters of the Chicago, or 
jt^ " I^orthwestern Sanitary Commission," as 
it was correctly re-christened — for all the 
N^orthwestern states became its auxiliaries 
— were the least attractive rooms in the city. 
Except during a brief period of its early ex- 
istence, it occupied the large rooms under McYick- 
er's Theatre, then, as now, on Madison Street. They 
seemed smaller than they were, because they were 
generally crowded with boxes and packages, huddled 
together to suit the convenience of those who 
opened, unpacked, assorted, stamped, and repacked 
their contents. Drays were continually unloading 

155 




156 " THE PERFUME OF THE SAJSTITART." 

and re-loading" with a fnrious racket; and the dray- 
men were not possessors of " soft, low voices." The 
din was fnrther increased by incessant hammering 
and ponnding within, caused by opening and nailing 
np boxes. Horse-cars passed to and fro every min- 
ute, and heavily laden teams, omnibuses, carriages, 
carts and wagons of all descriptions, rolled by with 
intermitting thunder. 

The sewing-rooms of the Commission were located 
on the floor above us, where between thirty and 
forty sewing-machines ran all day. Upstairs, and 
downstairs, and over our heads, the women of the 
soldiers' families maintained a ceaseless tramp from 
morning till night, coming to sew, to receive or re- 
turn work, or to get their greatly needed pay. Add 
to this a steady stream of callers, on every imagina- 
ble errand, in every known mental mood — grieved, 
angry, stupid, astonished, incredulous, delighted, 
agonized — all talking in the tones of voice in which 
these various moods betray themselves — was there 
an element of distraction omitted? 

The odors of the place Avere villanous and a per- 
petual torment. Codfish and sauer-kraut, pickles and 
ale, onions and potatoes, smoked salmon and halibut, 
ginger and whiskey, salt mackerel and tobacco, ker- 
osene for the lamps, benzine for cleansing purposes, 
black paint to mark the boxes, flannel and unbleached 
cotton for clothing, — these all concentrated their 
exhalations in one pungent aroma, that smote the 
olfactories when one entered, and clung tenaciously 
to the folds of one's garments when one departed. 
We called it " the ])erfume of the sanitary," and at 
last got used to it, as we did to the noise. 

From one corner of this room an ofiice was par- 



SMALL OFFICE IMMENSE WORK. 157 

titioned, so economical in dimensions that ten people 
crowded it. One large window lighted it, the lower 
half of ground glass. The upper half of the partition 
was also of glass, for the double purpose of light, and 
of keeping easily in communication with our co- 
workers in the outer room. The floor was cai'peted 
with ingrain, and desks of the simplest pattern and 
chairs of the hardest wood completed the furnishing. 

In these uninviting quarters the work of the 
^Northwestern Sanitary Commission was outlined or 
performed. Here were packed and shipped to the 
hospitals or battle-field 77,660 packages of sanitary 
supplies, whose cash value was $1,056,192.16. Here 
were written and mailed letters by the ten thousand, 
circulars by the hundred thousand, monthly bulletins 
and reports. Here were planned visits to the aid 
societies, trij^s to the army, methods of raising 
money and supplies, systems of relief for soldiers' 
families and white refugees. Homes and Rests for 
destitute and enfeebled soldiers, and the details of 
mammoth sanitary fairs. 

Hon. Mark Skinner of Chicago was president of 
the Commission through the darkest and most ardu- 
ous days of its existence. Just as its work had 
become so organized and systematized that anxiety 
concerning it was at an end, and the machinery ran 
with very little friction. Judge Skinner was com- 
pelled to resign because of ill-health, and Mr. E. B. 
McCagg of Chicago succeeded to the office. It was 
indeed a bereavement to lose Judge Skinner from the 
board. The weight of his name and character, and 
his worth as an adviser, greatly strengthened the 
organization with the outside community; while the 
charm of his manner, and the subtle humor that 



158 GOOD AT ANY KIND OF WORK. 

brightened his speech, rendered his almost daily visits 
to the rooms a pleasure that was keenly anticipated. 

Mr. E. W. Blatchford of Chicago was treasurer 
till the Commission disbanded. His office was no 
sinecure, for he not only received the money, but ex- 
pended it. ]S^o language can describe the prompt- 
ness, accuracy, and conscientiousness, which he 
carried into this work, l^ov is it possible to measure 
in words the courtesy, patience, kindness, and fine- 
ness of spirit, which all felt who were brought into 
relations with him. I shall always congratulate 
myself that the work of the Sanitary Commission 
brought me into association with Mr. Blatchford. 
For I learned of him an exactness and promptness, 
and a careful attention to detail in matters of business, 
that, as a woman, I should have learned nowhere 
else. Both Judge Skinner and Mr. Blatchford had 
large business and professional engagements of their 
own, demanding all their time and attention, which 
rendered their devotion to the cause of hospital relief 
more noteworthy. 

The constant habitues of the little office were four. 
Mr. John Freeman was nominally the shipping clerk; 
but if there was any kind of work connected with the 
rooms at which he did not lend a hand, I have yet to 
learn what it was. He attended to the boxes, to the 
packing, to the shipping; helped soldiers to obtain 
transportation back to their regiments, or assisted 
them, when feeble and wounded, to reach their homes ; 
went on the most surprising and unheard-of missions, 
and accomplished them, — in short, did an3^thing and 
everything, whether in the line of his duty or not, 
and always did it well. He was a man of remarkable 
good-nature, which no contretemps could disturb, and 



OUK " SHEET-ANCHOR." 159 

this made him a universal favorite. He possessed 
that "tact which is ahnost talent," and a discretion 
which bore him safely through many peculiar expe- 
riences where another would have blundered. !N^ot 
the least valuable of his accomplishments was his 
keen sense of the ludicrous. Rarely did he return 
from one of his many expeditions^ — sorrowful though 
they sometimes were — without a comic story to nar- 
rate, or a funny incident to describe. Seasoning both 
with a spice of native waggery, he would cause the 
rooms to resound with laughter, and render us all 
oblivious for a moment to both work and care. We 
regarded him at such times as a benefactor. 

Mr. William Goodsmith was a man of different 
temperament. Care did not sit lightly on his shoul- 
ders. Under Mr. Blatchford's directions he made 
purchases of supplies, which were always selected 
with care, paid bills, transacted business with banks, 
and all difficult and delicate matters were entrusted 
to his management. All relied implicitly on his 
judgment, good sense, and honor. So careful was he 
in all transactions, so absolutely faithful and pains- 
taking in everything, that limitless confidence was 
reposed in him. I have never known a more trust- 
worthy person. His ideal of excellence was very 
lofty, and his spirit so unselfish that at times he was 
unjust to himself. With all his recognized abilities, 
there was a hint of reserved power in his speech and 
manner, that made one sure he would be equal to the 
duties of a much higher position than he held. The 
Commission was very fortunate to command his ser- 
vices. We sometimes called him our " sheet-anchor." 

Mrs. Jane C. Hoge and myself completed the quar- 
tette of the office. Karely were we both absent at 



160 A GRAND, GOOD WOMAN. 

the same time. We were personal friends, and had 
long been associated in the charitable work of the 
city. She was a practical woman, and her executive 
ability was veiy marked. Her power of patient, per- 
sistent work was seemingly limitless. Her force of 
character was irresistible, and bore down all opposi- 
tion. Her energy was simply tremendous. She 
excelled in conducting a public meeting, and was a 
very forceful and attractive public speaker. The 
inspiration of the war developed in her capabilities 
of whose possession she was not aware, and she sur- 
prised herself, as she did others, by the exercise of 
hitherto unsuspected gifts. Of how many women 
workers of the war could the same be said! 

A devoted Presbyterian from childhood, Mrs. Hoge 
was very catholic in spirit. Her largeness of heart 
included the race, and, united to her keen sense of 
justice, led her into the charitable and reform work 
of the time. She was concerned for the public wel- 
fare, and gravitated instinctively towards public 
work. It was impossible for her to do otherwise 
than identify herself with the interests of the country. 
And when two of her sons entered the service, she 
gave herself unreservedly to the work of relieving 
our sick and wounded soldiers. 

My friend still lives in Chicago, where the calm 
evening of her days is brightened by the society of 
her husband, with whom she has spent more than 
half a centuiy of happy wedded life, and by the 
encompassing tenderness of her children, seven of 
whom are settled around her. By her grand, good 
life she has earned a long sojourn in the " Land of 
Beulah," while awaiting the summons to the " Celes- 
tial City." 




WOMEN i)Jh' THE \VAii 

FAMOUS NURSES OF UNION SOLDIERS. 



AD.WCP.THINOTOIT & CO, PtIELlSHERS HAKTFOT-i D , COK-NT. 



" A DAY AT THE ROOMS." 163 

There was always more or less volunteer and tran- 
sient help in the rooms. Sometimes companies of 
ladies, who gave their services on certain days ; some- 
times young girls, who caught the patriotic spirit of 
the time, and craved a share in the work; some- 
times detailed soldiers from Camp Douglas, doing 
guard duty over rebel prisoners; souietimes conva- 
lescent soldiers from the hospitals, who sought to 
dispose of the lagging hours while awaiting trans- 
portation to their regiments. There was never any 
lack of employment. The rush of business lasted all 
day and ran over into the midnight. We frequently 
took letters to our homes requiring immediate answer, 
and in the stillness of the night overtook the work 
that outran our most diligent efforts during the day. 
'Not even could we control the hours of Sunday 
during those busy years. The work of hospital 
relief ran over into them, and busy scenes were some- 
times enacted at the " rooms," of which the closed 
doors gave no hint to the thronging church-goers. 
" It is lawful to do good on the Sabbath day." 

A description of " A Day at the Rooms of the 
Sanitary Commission," which I wrote at the time 
for the columns of my husband's paper, gives a 
vivid idea of the routine of daily life in the busy 
office, and so I transcribe it here : — 

" It is early morning, — not nine o'clock, for the 
children are flocking in merry droves to school. The 
air is resonant with their joyous treble and musical 
laughter, as with clustering heads and interlacing 
arms they recount their varied experiences since they 
parted the night before, and rapturously expatiate on 
the delights of a coming excursion or promised pic- 
nic. With a good-bye kiss, I launch my own little 



1(34: WORK IlSr WAITLN^G. 

ones, bonneted, sacqued, and ballasted with books, 
like the rest, into the stream of childhood that is 
setting in a strong, fnll enrrent towards the school- 
room. I then catch the first street-car and hasten to 
the rooms of the ' ISTorthwestern Sanitary Commis- 
sion.' 

"Early as is my arrival, a dray is already ahead of 
me, nnloading its big boxes and little boxes, its bar- 
rels and firkins, its baskets and bundles. The side- 
walk is barricaded with the nondescript and multi- 
form packages, which John, the faithful porter, with 
his inseparable truck, is endeavoring to stow away 
in the crowded ' receiving-room.' Here, hammers 
and hatchets, wedges and chisels are in requisition, 
compelling the crammed boxes to disgorge their 
heterogeneous contents, which are rapidly assorted, 
stamped, repacked, and reshipped, their stay in the 
room rai'ely exceeding a few hours. 

" I enter the office. Ladies are in waiting, desirous 
of information. The aid society in another state, 
of which they are officers, has raised at a Fourth of 
July festival some six hundred dollars, and they wish 
to know how to dispose of it, so as to afford the 
greatest amount of relief to the sick and wounded of 
our army. They were also instructed to investigate 
the means and methods of the Commission, so as to 
carry conviction to a few obstinate skeptics, who 
persist in doubting if the Sanitary Commission, after 
all, be the best means of communication with the 
hospitals. Patiently and courteously the history, 
methods, means, views, and successes of the Com- 
mission are lucidly explained for the hundredth time 
in a month, and all needed advice and instruction 
imparted; and the enlightened women leave. 



A BUDGET OF LETTERS. 165 

" An express messenger enters. He jDresents a 
package, obtains his fee, gets a receipt for the pack- 
age, and without a word departs. 

" [N^ext comes a budget of letters — the morning's 
mail. One announces the shipment of a box of hos- 
pital stores which will arrive to-day. Another scolds 
roundly because an important letter sent a week ago 
has not been answered, while a copy of the answer 
in the copying-book is iudisputable proof that it has 
received attention, but has in some way miscarried. 
A third narrates a bugaboo story of surgeons and 
nui-ses in a distant hospital, with gluttonous habits, 
who are mainly occupied in ' seeking what they can 
devour ' of the hospital delicacies, so that little is 
saved for their patients. A fourth pleads passion- 
ately that the writer may be sent as a nurse to the 
sad, cheerless, most poorly furnished and far-away 
hospitals. A fifth is the agonized letter of .a mother 
and widow, blistered with tears, begging piteously 
that the Commission will search out and send to her 
tidings of her only son, — 

' Scarce more than a boy, Avith unshaven face, 
"Who marched away with a star on his breast,' 

and has not been heard from since the battle of 
Grand Gulf. A sixth asks assistance in organizing 
the women of a distant town, who have just awaked 
to their duty to their brothers in the field. A seventh 
is a letter from two nine-year-old girls, who have 
between them earned five dollars, and wish to spend 
it for ' the poor sick soldiers.' God bless the dear 
children! An eighth begs that one of the ladies of 
the Commission will visit the aid society of the town 
in which the writer lives, and rekindle the flagging 
zeal of the tired workers. They propose to cease work 



166 A BEREAVED AGED FATHER. 

during the hot weather, forgetting that our brave 
men halt not on their marches, and postpone not 
their battles, because of the heat or of weariness. A 
ninth announces the death of one of our heroic 
nurses, who was sent by the Commission a few 
months ago to Tennessee — a serious, comely girl, with 
heart as true as steel, and soul on fire with patriotic 
desire to do something for her country, and who has 
now given her life. And so on through a package 
of twenty, thirty, forty, sometimes fifty letters; and 
this is but one mail of the day — usually the heaviest, 
however. 

" ISTow begins the task of replying to these multi- 
tudinous epistles — a work which is interrupted every 
five minutes by some new comer. A venerable man 
enters, walking slowly, and my heart warms towards 
him. I remember my aged father, a thousand miles 
away, who is, like him, white-haired and feeble. He 
has been here before, and I immediately recognize 
him. 

" ' Have you heard anything yet from my son in 
Van Buren Hospital, at Milliken's Bend?' 

" ' Not yet, sir; you know it is only nine days since 
I wrote to inquire for him. I will telegraph if you 
think best.' 

" ' 'No matter ; ' and the old man's lip quivers, his 
figure tremble^ violently, a sob chokes him, his eyes 
fill with tears, as with a deprecating wave of the 
hand he says, ' J^o matter now ! ' 

"I understand it all. It is all over with his boy, and 
the cruel tidings have reached him. I i-ise and offer 
my hand. He encloses it convulsively in his, leans 
his head against the iron column near my desk, and 
his tears drip, drip steadily. 



WHAT AILS THE LITTLE FELLOW ? 167 

"'Your son has only gone a little before you,' I 
venture to say ; ' only a hand's breadth of time be- 
tween you now.' 

" ' Yes,' adds the poor old faljher; ' and he gave his 
life for a good cause — a cause worthy of it if he had 
been a thousand times dearer to me than he was.' 

" ' And your boy's mother — how does she bear this 
grief? ' 

" The tears rain down his cheeks now. 

" ' It will kill her ; she is very feeble.' 

" What shall assuage the sorrow of these aged par- 
ents, bereft of the son of their old age by the cruel 
war that slavery has invoked? Sympathy and com- 
fort are proffered the poor father, and after a little 
the sorrowing man turns again to his desolate home. 

" A childish figure drags itself into the room, shuf- 
fles heavily along, drops into a chair, and offers a 
letter. What ails the little fellow, whose face is 
bright and beautiful, and yet is shaded by sadness ? 
I open the letter and read. He is a messenger-boy 
from Admiral Porter's gunboats, who is sent JN^orth 
with the request that the child be properly cared for. 
'Not thirteen years old, and yet he has been in many 
battles, and has run the gauntlet of the Yicksburg 
batteries, which for ten miles belched forth red-hot 
and steel-pointed shot and shell, in fruitless efforts 
to sink the invulnerable ironclads. Fever, too much 
medicine, neglect, and exposure, have done their 
worst for the little fellow, who has come N^orth, home- 
less and friendless, with the right side paralyzed. 
He is taken to the exquisite tenderness of the 
' Soldiers' Home,' and for the present is con- 
signed to the motherly care of the good ladies 
who preside there. 



168 ah! that white, anxious pace! 

" AVho next ? A bevy of nurses enter with carpet- 
bags, shawls, and bundles. A telegram from the 
Commission has summoned them, for the hospitals at 
Memphis need them, and straightway they have 
girded themselves to the work. One is a widow, 
whose husband fell at Shiloh ; another is the wife of 
a lieutenant at Vicksburg ; a third lost her brother 
at Chaneellorsville ; a fourth has no family ties, 
and there is no one to miss her while absent, or to 
mourn her if she never returns. They receive their 
instructions, commissions, and transportation, and 
hurry onward. God guide you, brave, noble women ! 

" Ah ! that white, anxious face, whiter than ever, is 
again framed in the doorway. Is there no possible 
escape from it ? One, two, three, four days she has 
haunted these rooms, waiting the answer to the tele- 
gram despatched to Gettysburg, where her son was 
wounded ten days ago. The answer to the telegram 
is this moment in my pocket — how shall I repeat its 
stern message to the white-faced, sorrow-stricken 
mother ? I involuntarily leave my desk, and bustle 
about, as if in search of something, trying to think 
how to break the news. I am spared the effort, for 
the morning papers have announced her bereave- 
ment, and she has only come to secure the help of 
the Commission in obtaining possession of her dead. 
There are no tears, no words of grief ; only a still 
agony, a repressed anguish, which it is painful to 
witness. Mr. Freeman accompanies her to the rail- 
road officials, where his pleading story wins the 
charity of a free pass for the poor woman to the 
' military line.' There she must win her way, 
aided by the letters of endorsement and recommenda- 
tion we give her. Bowing under her great sorrow. 



THE DAY IS CROWDED WITH WORK, 169 

she goes forth on her sacred pilgrimage. Alas ! 
how many thousand mothers have been bereft at 
Vicksburg and Gettysburg, refusing to be comforted, 
because their children are not! 

" Soldiers from the city hospitals visit us, to beg a 
shirt, a pair of slippers, a comb, or a well-filled pin- 
cushion, ' something interesting to read,' or ' paper, 
envelopes, and stamps,' to answer letters from wives, 
mothers, and sweethearts. They tarry to talk over 
their trials, sufferings, and privations, and their anx- 
iety to get well and join their regiments, ' which is 
better than being cooped up in a hospital, even when 
it is a good one.' They are praised heartily, petted 
in motherly fashion as if they were children, which 
most sick men become, urged to come again, and 
sent back altogether lighter-hearted than when they 
came. 

" And so the day wears away. More loaded drays 
drive to the door with barrels of crackers, ale, 
pickles, sauer-kraut, and potatoes, with boxes of 
shirts, drawers, condensed milk and beef, with bales 
of cotton and flannel for the sewing-room, all of 
which are speedily disposed of, to make room for the 
arrivals of the morrow. Men and women come and 
go — to visit, to make inquiries, to ask favors, to 
offer services, to criticise and find fault, to bring 
news from the hospitals at Vicksburg, Memphis, 
Murfreesboro' and ISTashville, to make inquiries for 
missing men through the ' Hospital Directory ' of 
the Commission, to make donations of money, 
always needed, to retail their sorrows, and sometimes 
to idle away an hour in the midst of the hurrying, 
writing, copying, mailing, packing and shipping of 
this busy place. 
11 



170 A SUBURB OF HEAVEI!^'. 

" The sun declines westward, its fervent heat is 
abating, and the hands of the clock point to the hour 
of six, and sometimes to seven. Wearied in body, 
exhausted mentally, and saturated with the j^^'issing 
streams of others' sorrows, I select the letters which 
must be answered by to-morrow morning's mail, 
replies to which have been delayed by the interrup- 
tions of the day, and again hail the street-car, which 
takes me to my home. Its pleasant order and 
quiet, its welcome rest, its cheerful companionship, 
its gayety, which comes from the prattle and merri- 
ment of children, who have a thousand adventures 
to narrate, — all seem strange and unnatural after the 
experiences of the day. It is as if I had left the 
world for a time, to refresh myself in a suburb of 
heaven. And only by a mental effort do I shut out 
the scenes I have left, and drop back for a time 
into my normal life — the life of a wife, mother, 
and housekeeper. I try to forget the narratives of 
gunshot wounds, sabre strokes, battle and death, 
that have rained on me all day. This hour with my 
husband and children shall not be saddened by 
sketches of the suffering men and women who have 
defiled before my vision during the hours of day- 
light. There is a bright side even to these dark 
pictures; and there comes to me like a tonic the 
grand solace of the poet : — 

" ' Above, or underneath, 
What matters, brothers, if we keep our post 
At truth's and duty's side ! As sword to sheath, 
Dust turns to grave — but souls find place in Heaven ! ' '* 



CHAPTER YI. 

A CAMPAIGN PLANNED BY A WOMAN — DESPEEATE BATTLES 
— TERRIBLE SCENES ON THE BATTLE-FIELD — TERRIFIC 
FIGHTING AND APPALLING SUFFERING — THE AGONIES 
OF WAR. 

General McClellan supersedes General Scott — Missouri becomes the Field 
of Battle — General Grant wins a Victory at Belmont — Fleet of ' ' Iron- 
clads " for Service on Southern Elvers — The *' Tennessee Campaign" 
planned by Anna Ella Carroll, of Maryland — Plan adopted by President 
Lincoln and Secretary Stanton — Carried out by General Grant — The 
"Court of Claims," in 1885, decides in her Favor — 'Fort Henry on the 
Tennessee captured by Gunboats — They fail to take Fort Donelson on 
the Cumberland — General Grant attacks by Land — The Fort surren- 
ders, after three Days' Fighting — " Unconditional Surrender Grant!" — 
Joy of the Northwest — Frightful Suffering of the Wounded — Many 
frozen to Death on both Sides — The People move to succor the 
Wounded — Immense Quantities of Supplies forwarded — Seven thou- 
sand Prisoners sent to Camp Douglas — Five hundred die« 

FTER the battle of Bull Run had been 
fought and lost, there was a lull in the 
storm of war on the Atlantic Coast. " All 
is quiet on the Potomac ! " was daily bulle- 
tined from the army for months, until the 
people became depressed and exasperated. 
They could not understand the strange inactivity of 
the land forces, nor the timidity and weakness of the 
government. 

In November, 1861, Major-General Scott, weighted 
with age and infirmities, resigned his position, and 
young General McClellan was installed in his place 
as commander-in-chief of the army. The heart of 

171 




172 WAK IN MISSOURI. 

the nation went out to him in trust and affection, and 
it bent its ear southward, to catch the first sound of 
the forward movement of the mighty host under his 
leadership. The government had now in its service 
for the suppression of the rebeUion six hundred and 
eighty-two thousand soldiers and sailors, and a larger 
force was at its disposal whenever it was demanded. 
But the mild weeks of the autumn dragged away, 
now and then a fierce storm presaged the coming 
winter ; and yet the dreary bulletin was daily repeated, 
"" All is quiet on the Potomac ! " 

In the meantime all eyes were turned to the West, 
for Missouri had become the great field of battle. 
General Fremont had returned from Europe in June 
with arms for the government, and had been assigned 
to the Department of the West. He reached St. 
Louis in July, and took command. Before he had had 
time to acquaint himself with the condition of affairs, 
to organize an army, or decide on a plan of action, the 
battle of Wilson's Creek occurred, in which General 
Lyon was killed, and a large portion of Missouri was 
left in the hands of the rebels. Then came the battle 
of Lexington, in which the enemy was again victori- 
ous, and Missouri was now the scene of widespread 
devastation and blood. Small bodies of troops kept 
the field, and there were incessant skirmishes and 
combats. Remote towns were occupied alternately 
by the Unionists and the enemy. Kailroads and 
bridges were destroyed, houses and barns fired, 
families scattered, neighborhoods desolated, and 
murders were of constant occurrence. 

Later, in T^ovember, an expedition was sent from 
Cairo, under General Grant, to break up a camp of 
the enemy in Belmont. It was not only done, but 



THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN IS CHANGED. 173 

more was accomplished than was proposed, which 
toned up the troops engaged in the fight to great 
confidence and fortitude. Almost simultaneously 
with the battle of Belmont, Major-General Halleck 
superseded Fremont. 

During the first two years of the war, the naval 
forces took a very prominent part in all Western 
operations. The blockade of the Mississippi and the 
breaking out of hostilities had thrown large numbers 
of the river steamers out of occupation. When these 
were sheathed with iron, they could defy the heaviest 
artillery of the enemy; and, as they were of light 
draught, they could steam up shallow streams into 
the interior of the country, and make their way in 
rivers at the lowest stage of water. When these 
"ironclads" carried heavy guns, as most of them 
did, they were especially dreaded by the enemy. 

Early in the year 1862 a fleet of these dreaded 
ironclads moved down the Southern rivers, and 
began the long-talked-of advance into the Confeder- 
ate States. ]^o decisive blow had yet been struck at 
the rebellion, but there seemed now to be a purpose to 
wrest the valley of the Mississippi from the control of 
the enemy. It was seen that the strategic key of the 
war of the Southwest was not the Mississippi, but the 
Tennessee. It was determined to break the line of 
defences along the Tennessee and Cumberland rivers 
by taking Forts Henry and Donelson, both of them 
strong fortifications. Fort Henry was on the Ten- 
nessee and Fort Donelson on the Cumberland, only 
twelve miles apart, in Tennessee, near the state line. 

This change of plan — which transferred the national 
armies from Cairo and Northern Kentucky to a new 
base, in i^orthern Mississippi and Alabama, and which 



174 ANXA ELLA CAllROLL MADE THE PLANT. 

made the fall of the Confederacy inevitable — has a 
remarkable history. It was planned by a woman, 
Anna Ella Carroll, of Maryland, a descendant of 
Charles Carroll, of Carrollton, of Revolutionary times, 
and whose father was governor of the state in 1829. 
Belonging to one of the first families of the country, 
of brilliant intellect, and intensely loyal to the Union, 
she comprehended state and military questions with 
wonderful clearness. She wrote and published pa- 
pers and pamphlets on some of t|ie debated important 
topics of the time, that attracted the attention of lead- 
ing members of Congress, and made her one of the 
advisers of President Lincoln. She was admitted to 
his presence at all times, and " he reserved a sjDecia] 
file for her communications." 

By advice of the War Department she went to St. 
Louis in the fall of 1861, and there studied and 
planned the Tennessee campaign, which was adopted 
by the administi'ation, and carried out by General 
Grant. By this campaign the Confederacy was cut 
in twain, the Mississippi was opened to Young's 
Point, opposite Vicksburg, European intervention 
with the United States was averted, the national 
credit was revived, the heart of the country strength- 
ened, and its drooping courage toned up to firai 
resolution. 

l!^ot only did President Lincoln acknowledge Miss 
Carroll to be the author of the plan of the Tennessee 
campaign, but Secretary Stanton gave her the same 
credit. So also did Hon. Henry Wilson, Chairman 
of the Senate Military Committee of the Forty- 
Second Congress, in a report on the memorial of 
Miss Carroll, asking for compensation for her ser- 
vices, as she had become an invalid and was in want. 



COURT OF CLAIMS DECIDES IN HER EAVOR. 175 

Hon. B. F. Wade, Chairman of the Committee on 
the Conduct of the War, was most emphatic in testi- 
fying to Miss Carroll's authorship of the plan of 
the campaign, as was Hon. L. D. Evans, of the 
Supreme Court of Texas. Their letters and state- 
ments have been published again and again, and 
have now passed into history. 

At last the Court of Claims, which decides all cases 
on their merits, has, after careful consideration, de- 
cided in her favor. It has " substantiated the claim 
to recompense she long ago made before Congress 
for services performed during the civil war." That 
she has been obliged to wait until the present time 
for recognition is pitiful. But the delay has arisen 
from two formidable obstacles, as was stated before 
the Court of Claims: first, the unfavorable attitude 
of the military mind towards what emanates from 
outside circles; and, secondly, the fact that the 
claimant is a woman — a fact for which she is not 
responsible — has operated against her through all 
these years in a powerful manner. 

In pursuance of this plan of the Tennessee cam- 
paign, Fort Henry was first attacked. Commodore 
Foote, Avith seven gunboats, engaged the batteries 
on the river front ; and before General Grant had 
arrived with his troops from Cairo, the main force 
of the enemy retreated to Fort Donelson, and the 
remainder surrendered. 

Fort Donelson was next attacked, lying nearly 
opposite Fort Henry, a stronger and more important 
position, garrisoned by twenty-one thousand troops. 
General Grant moved his forces across the country, 
and invested the place, while waiting for Commodore 
Foote with his gunboats, which were to engage the 



176 FORT don:elson surrenders. 

river batteries, as at Fort Henry. The three days of 
the fight, the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth of 
February, were days of intense anxiety in the West, 
especially in Chicago. It was known that the attack 
by water, which had been so easily successful at 
Fort Henry, had failed at Donelson through the dis- 
abling of Commodore Foote's gunboats; and the 
heart of the Northwest was sick with forebodings 
of failure. 

When, therefore, on Sunday, the sixteenth, the tele- 
graph flashed to the nation the news of Grant's vic- 
tory, — that nearly fifteen thousand troops, sixty-five 
guns, some of them of the largest calibre, and seven- 
teen thousand six hundred small arms, had fallen into 
the hands of the victor, — the delight of the West was 
boundless. " The whole of Kentucky and Tennessee 
fell at once into the hands of the national forces. 
The Tennessee and Cumberland rivers were opened 
to national vessels for hundreds of miles. Nashville, 
the capital of Tennessee, and a place of immense 
strategic importance, fell. And the Mississippi was 
left free of the rebel flag from St. Louis to Arkansas." 
All this was the legitimate result of the capture of 
Fort Donelson. It was a great victory, and the 
first of any importance since the beginning of the 
war. Great as were its military results, its happy 
efiect on the spirits of the soldiers and the people 
was even greater. 

No one of the later or larger victories of the war, 
not even the fall of Richmond, awoke the enthusiastic 
delight of the Northwest like the fall of Fort Donel- 
son. Bells rang ; cannon thundered the general joy ; 
bands perambulated the streets of the cities, playing 
the national airs, deafening cheers often drowning 



UNIVERSAL REJOICING. 177 

their music ; flags were flung out from almost every 
house, and where there was any reluctance to give 
this manifestation of loyal delight, from sympathy 
with secession, the overjoyed people took possession 
and compelled the display of the national colors. 
Many a disloyal wi'etch who had assisted to plot the 
rebellion, and had contributed moliey and arms to 
the enemy, was compelled to enter his house under 
the flag of the stars and stripes, which he had been 
forced to purchase. Men rushed from their stores, 
offices, counting-rooms, sho]3s, and work-benches, to 
congratulate one another. They met on the streets 
and threw their hats in air, embraced one another, 
wept, and shouted. 

The public schools of Chicago had each purchased 
a flag by joint subscription, and a flagstafl" had been 
planted on the roof of every one of the handsome 
brick schoolhouses for just such occasions as this. 
So the boys ran up their flags amid immense cheering, 
and, under the direction of the teachers, the day was 
given up to patriotic dissipation. National songs 
were sung, patriotic scraps of speeches found in the 
reading-books were recited, and the location and im- 
portance of Fort Donelson were explained to the 
young people. When the hour of dismissal came, 
they added to the joyful confusion of the streets by 
shooting out of the 'schoolhouses like bombs from 
mortars, with shrill and prolonged hurrahs leaping 
from their lips as they rushed through every part of 
the city. Night came, and the people crowded the 
churches to return thanks to God. Meetings were 
held to raise funds for the relief of the wounded. 
The streets blazed with bonfires, and the glare of the 
flames was like that of a great conflagration. Nor 



178 APPALLING SUPFEKESTG. 

did the rejoicings cease until j^hysical exhaustion 
compelled an end of them. 

With the news of the victory the telegraph flashed 
the terrible needs of the wounded men. During the 
first day of the fight a cold, heavy rain fell cease- 
lessly, converting the roads into rivers of mud, 
through which the troops painfully toiled. During 
the night the rain changed to sleet and snow, and 
the wind blew in fierce, wintry gusts, the weather 
became intensely cold, and the thermometer dropped 
to zero. Our brave fellows were mostly young, and 
not yet inured to the hardships of war. With the 
improvidence of inexperience, they had thrown away 
their blankets on the march, and had only the insuffi- 
cient rations they had brought in their haversacks, of 
which they had been very careless. They had no 
tents ; were obliged to bivouac in line of battle, lying 
on their arms; and as the rebel pickets were out in 
strong force, no fires could be kindled, as their posi- 
tion would be revealed. 

The enemy were in much worse plight, as, in 
addition to their foodless, fireless and tentless condi- 
tion, they were poorly clad. All through the long 
winter night both armies were pelted by the driving, 
pitiless snow and hail. Many of the soldiers on both 
sides w^ere frozen to death before morning. "An 
incessant firing was kept up by the pickets; and the 
groans of the wounded, who lay shivering between 
the two armies, calling for help and water, were heard 
all through the night." Meantime the muffled sounds 
that came from the front during the pauses of the 
storm told them that the enemy were receiving heavy 
re-enforcements. The next two days were equally 
bleak and cold; and the men bivouacked each night 



A DESPERATE BATTLE. 179 

on their arms, in the snow, and on the frozen gronnd. 
In the morning they were roused from their icy 
couches, and stumbled stiff and shivering into their 
places in the ranks. 

The very topography of the battle-field added to 
the miseries of the fight. It was made up of hills and 
valleys, stretched across ravines and broken ground, 
and extended through dense forests. Every com- 
manding height bristled with cannon, constantly 
sending shot and shell among our men massed below. 
Every position of the enemy on the precipitous 
heights was carried by storm. Our brave men, in 
regiments, swept up the steep sides of the hills, in the 
face of sheets of fire, and amid tempests of balls. 
The gaps in their ascending ranks were instantly 
closed, and, stepping over the dead and wounded, 
they pressed resistlessly on, silent as death, reserving 
their fire till they reached the crest of the heights. 
Then, with exultant shouts, they poured in their vol- 
leys of shot, and flung themselves like an avalanche 
on the enemy, driving them at the point of the bay- 
onet. All through the three days of the struggle, 
the roar of the contending hosts was like that of a 
tornado, as they surged back and forth through the 
forest, strewing it with dead and wounded. 

But few of the wounded could be removed from 
the field while the fight lasted. There they lay, 
some two and three nights and days, uncared for, 
many freezing to death. Hundreds who fell in 
the beginning of the battle, when the ground was 
soft and muddy, were frozen into the earth; and 
it was necessary to cut them out of the ground, 
when attention could be given them, and in this 
deplorable plight they were taken to the extemporized 



180 ROYAL GENEKOSITYa 

and unready hospitals. Their removal was horrible 
torture; for there were few ambulances, and the 
wagons and carts impressed into the service were of 
the rudest construction, and generally lacked springs. 
In these the poor fellows were jolted and pitched 
down the precij^itous heights, where they had lain 
for two or three days and nights, encased in bloody 
and frozen uniforms. Any convenient shed, barn, 
house, or church received them. They were laid on 
the bare floor, their wounds undressed, their frozen 
clothing unchanged, faint from loss of blood and ex- 
treme bodily anguish, and hundreds died miserably 
before relief came to them. 

The surgeons of the government were few in num- 
ber, and its medical supplies utterly inadequate to 
the occasion. But the people moved to the succor of 
the wounded, with a royal generosity. The Chicago 
Board of Trade immediately raised three thousand 
dollars, needed supplies were purchased, and a com- 
mittee of citizens started for the scene of sufi'ering. 
Seventeen physicians were sent down on the first 
train that left Chicago after the fall of Donelson was 
known. The Chicago Sanitary Commission had been 
sending supplies to its depot in Cairo for weeks, at 
the rate of a thousand dollars' worth daily, and it 
continued to do this for weeks afterward. These 
were drawn upon ad libitmn for the occasion. 

Floating hospitals, or " Hospital Steamers," as they 
were called, which after this were always in the 
near neighborhood of the gunboats as they advanced 
down the Southern rivers, were rapidly fitted up and 
loaded with supplies by the Chicago and St. Louis 
Commissions, and sent on their errands of mercy. 
Merchants, lawyers, clergymen, women, — ten times 



" UNCONDITION^AL SURRENDER" GRANT. 181 

as many as were needed, — volunteered as nurses. 
Spontaneous contributions of sheets, pillows, shirts, 
lint, bandages, jellies, canned fruits, and other stores 
of the housewife, were poured into the recently 
opened rooms of the Commission in magnificent 
abundance. There was but one heart in the commu- 
nity, an eager and determined purpose to alleviate 
the sufferings of the heroes of Donelson. Every day's 
fuller report of their bravery and indescribable en- 
durance only intensified the compassion and gratitude 
of the great Northwest, — not then as rich and pow- 
erful as now, — and there was no withholding any- 
where. 

The elation of the country was boundless. After 
so many delays and defeats, this victory cheered the 
nation and inspired the army. General Grant had 
won national fame. His memorable answer to Gen- 
eral Buckner, the rebel commander, who proposed 
" the appointment of commissioners to settle terms of 
capitulation," gave him the hearts of his countrymen. 
" Ko terms except immediate and unconditional sur- 
render can be accepted. I propose to move immedi- 
ately on your works." The speech and the deed, of 
the not yet recognized leader, were indications of 
character. The enthusiasm of the Western army was 
enkindled. They dubbed their commander " Uncon- 
ditional Surrender Grant," declaring this to be the 
name indicated by the initials " U. S." 

There was a great lack of hospital clothing, and 
one of the largest halls of Chicago was loaned to the 
women for its manufacture. To this hall they flocked 
in such numbers, that it was necessary to apportion 
the days of the week to the various districts of the 
city, so as to accommodate all the willing workers. 



182 "you-uns got better gkub tha:n^ we-uns." 

Every sewing-machine office in the city put its rooms, 
machines and operators to the same service, to the 
entire sus^Dcnsion of its own business, ^ever was 
clothing manufactured more rapidly; for the ma- 
chines were run into the small hours of the morn- 
ing, and there was no slacking of effort while the 
urgent demand lasted. It was the same all over the 
West. The facts of the desperate battle, the severe 
exposure of the wounded, the incomplete prepara- 
tions for their removal and care, the great destitution 
of surgeons, instruments, supplies, of everything 
that was needed, — as these became known to the 
people, their patriotic generosity was stimulated to 
fever heat. 

Seven thousand of the enemy taken at Fort Donel- 
son were sent to Chicago as prisoners of war, and 
were given accommodations at Cami^ Douglas. They 
were quartered in the same barracks, and were fur- 
nished with the same rations, both as to quality and 
quantity, as were accorded our own troops that had 
occupied the camp a few months before. It was 
amusing, as well as pathetic, to listen to their openly 
expressed satisfaction. "You-uns got better grub 
than we-uns down South; better barracks, too." A 
more motley looking crowd was never seen in Chi- 
cago. They were mostly un-uniformed, and shiv- 
ering with cold, wi^apped in tattered bedquilts, 
pieces of old carpets, hearth rugs, horse blankets, 
ragged shawls, — anything that would serve to keep 
out the cold and hide their tatterdemalion condition. 

They had evidently suffered severely in the terrible 
three days' fight at Donelson, not only from the arc- 
tic weather, but from insufficient food and clothing. 
If their own pitiful stories were true, they had failed 



GAVE UP THE STRUGGLE EOR LIFE. 183 

to receive good care from the time they entered the 
Confederate service. They seemed a poorly nour- 
ished and uncared-for company of men, and their 
hopeless and indescribable ignorance intensified their 
general forlornness. Despite good medical attend- 
ance in camp and hospital, and notwithstanding the 
sick lacked for nothing in the matter of nursing and 
sick-diet — so well managed was the hospital, and so 
constant the ministrations of the women of Chicago — 
more than five hundred of them died at Camp Doug- 
las before they were exchanged. It was pitiful to 
see how easily they gave up all struggle for life, and 
how readily they adjusted themselves to the inevit- 
able. I^ot less uncomplainingly than the camel, 
which silently succumbs to the heavy load, did these 
ignorant, unfed and unclad fellows turn their faces 
to the wall, and breathe out their lives, without a 
regret, or a murmur. 



CHAPTEK YII. 

AFTEE THE BATTLE — MY FIRST EXPERIEN'CE IN A MILITARY 
HOSPITAL — A DEATHLY FAINTNESS COMES OVER ME — 
NERVING MYSELF FOR THE WORK — TOUCHING SCENES. 

Mrs. Hoge and myself visit the Hospitals of St. Louis — Our first Expe- 
rience — Boisterousness of new Recruits — The grim Silence of Men 
who had "been under Fire" — Om- remarkable Hostess — Conspicuous 
and imflinching Loyalty — Her "Hospital Kitchen" and "Hospital 
Wagon " — " Eleven Hundred Soldiers' Letters! " — The Donelson Wards 
— Their sickening Odor and ghastly Sights — Horrible Mutilation of the 
Men — A deathly Faintness came over me — The Wounded and Dead 
robbed on the Field of Battle — Plucky Fellow— "They couldn't be 
bothering with us" — "Afraid to die!" — "Send for a Methodist Min- 
ister!" — The Magic of Song — The mental Conflict of the Night that 
followed — St. Louis sitting in Gloom — Sad Wedding in the Hospital — 
Death of the Bridegroom. 

IHILE the demand for "battle supplies" 
continued, Mrs. Hoge — my co-worker — 
and myself, assisted in collecting, purchas- 
ing, cutting, making, and packing what- 
ever was in demand. But it became 
evident that the tide of war was setting towards 
other large battles ; and, as soon as there was a lull in 
the demand for sanitary stores, Mrs. Hoge and myself 
were sent to the hospitals and to medical headquar- 
ters at the front, with instructions to obtain any 
possible information, that would lead to better pre- 
paration for the wounded of another great battle. 
The great proportion of the wounded of Fort 

184 




VISIT TO ST. LOUIS HOSPITALS. 185 

Donelson had been taken to the excellent general 
hospitals established at St. Louis, and our first visit 
was to this city. We stopped at Springfield, 111., en 
route, to obtain the endorsement of Governor Yates, 
and letters of recommendation from him. They 
were heartily given. From Chicago to Springfield, 
we went in com23any with recently formed regiments 
of soldiers, who, with the boisterous enthusiasm that 
always characterized the newly enlisted, made the 
night hideous with their shouts and songs. We 
soon learned that we could easily distinguish soldiers 
who had " been under fire " from the new recruits. 
Boatloads of the former would steam past us, going 
up or down the Mississippi, in a grim silence that 
was most oppressive; while men fresh from their 
first camp would deafen us with their throat-splitting 
yells and shouts. The former had had experience of 
war; and the first rollicking enthusiasm of ignorance 
had given place to a grimness of manner that im- 
pressed one with a sense of desperate purpose. 

During our stay in St. Louis, we were the invited 
guests of one of the few wealthy families of the city 
which had remained loyal. The mistress of the 
household was a N^ew England woman, whose ances- 
tors had borne an honorable part in the war of the 
Revolution. Her husband, who had died just before 
the outbreak of the rebellion, was allied by blood and 
friendship with the foremost leaders of the Southern 
Confederacy, and was himself, during his life, a 
slaveholder, a stout defender of slavery, and intensely 
Southern in his feelings. At his death, his widow 
manumitted all the slaves bequeathed her, and 
then hired them all at fair wages. Eight of them 
were connected with the household in some capacity, 

12 



186 OUR REMAKKABLE HOSTESS. 

and held their mistress in idolatrous estimation. 
The noble woman hesitated not an instant as to her 
line of condnct, when the rebellion was inangnrated. 
She clung to the loyal party of the state of Missouri, 
with a Roman firmness, and an uncompromising 
fidelity that never wavered. 

Those of her children who had grown to manhood 
and womanhood sided with the South, as the younger 
ones would have done but for her all-compelling 
will, that held them true to their country. She over- 
bore the purpose of the older sons to enter the Con- 
federate army, and persuaded them to go to the 
south of Europe with a delicate sister, in quest of 
her health. Two of her children, a son and daugh- 
ter, never returned, but died before the war ended, 
as much from chagrin and disappointment at the 
failure of the South, and grief over the death of 
kindred lost in the war, as from disease. The 
younger sons, who were terribly demoralized by the 
disloyal and defiant atmosphere of St. Louis, Avere 
sent to N^ew England, to school and to college. 
Then, with one loyal daughter, she gave herself, her 
wealth, her elegant home, her skilled and trained 
servants, her influence, her speech, all that she was 
or had, unreservedly to the service of the country. 
That household was representative of many in the 
border states. 

Some three of the wounded officers of Fort Donel- 
son, one of whom had lost an arm, another a leg, 
and the third had a broken shoulder, and had been 
shot through the lungs, were taken to her stately 
home, where they were nnrsed as tenderly as if they 
had been her sons. There we found them in her 
charge, a hired, trained nurse being installed over 



HER WORK IX THE HOSPITALS. 187 

them, and her own family physician entrusted with 
the duty of restoring them to health. Her whole 
time and labor were given to the hospitals. 

In her house, a kitchen had been fitted up ex- 
pressly for the preparation of such delicate articles 
of sick-food as were not at that time easily cooked in 
the hosj^itals. It was called the " hospital kitchen," 
and her best cook was installed in it, with such as- 
sistants as she required. A light covered wagon, 
called by the coachman the " hospital wagon," was 
fitted up expressly for the transportation of these 
delicacies to the wards or invalids for whom they 
were designed. More than half the day was given 

by Mrs. to visiting the hospitals, to which her 

social position, her wealth, and her noted loyalty, 
always gave her admission, even under the most 
stringent medical administration. The evenings 
were devoted to writing letters for the soldiers, from 
memoranda she had gathered during the day — and 
into this work she impressed all who were under 
her roof. Mrs. Hoge and myself took our share of 
it every evening during our stay with her. Over 
eleven hundred letters for soldiers were written in 
this house in one year alone. 

In company with this lady I made my first visit to 
a military hospital. We drove to the " Fifth Street 
Hospital," and passed directly into a ward of the 
wounded from Fort Donelson. The sickening odor 
of blood and healing wounds almost overpowered 
me. In the nearest bed lay a young man whose 
entire lower jaw had been shot away, and his tongue 
cut off. A surgeon came to dress the poor fellow's 
wounds, and I was directed to render him what 
assistance he required. The process of healing had 



188 A DEATHLY rAINT:N^ESS CAME OVER ME. 

drawn down the upper part of the face, so that when 
the ghastly wound was concealed by plasters and 
bandages, the exposed portion of the face was sadly 
distorted. But when the bandages were removed by 
the surgeon for examination of the wound, its horri- 
ble nature became apparent. A deathly faintness 
came over me, and I was hurried from the ward to 
the outer air for recovery. 

Three times I returned, and each time some new 
horror smote my vision, some more sickening odor 
nauseated me, and 1 was led out fainting. The hor- 
rors of that long ward, containing over eighty of the 
most fearfully wounded men, were worse than any- 
thing I had imagined; but not worse than scenes in 
which I afterwards spent weeks and weeks without 
a tremor of the nerves or a flutter of the pulse. This 
was my first experience. 

" A great many people cannot stay in hospitals, 
or render any service in them, they are so afiected 
by the sights and smells," said the surgeon. " I 
would not try to do anything here were I in your 
place." 

But was I to shrink from the sight of misery 
which these brave men were so nobly enduring? 
The thought was a tonic, and despising my weak- 
ness, I forced myself to remain in the ward without 
nausea or faintness. !Never again Avere my nerves 
disturbed by any sight or sound of horror. I was 
careful to hold myself in iron control, until I had 
become habituated to the manifold shocking sights 
that are the outcome of the wicked business mei: call 
war. 

In the second bed, a mere boy, a rebel prisoner, was 
dying. Both mutilated legs had been amputated 



"they couldn't be bothering with us!" 189 

above the knee, inflammation and fever had set in, 
the brain had become involved, and he was wild with 
delirium — singing, gesticulating, and babbling. Oc- 
casional paroxysms of fear seized him, Avhen his 
shrieks would resound through the ward, and but for 
the attendants he would have leaped from the bed, 
struggling and wrestling with some phantom of his 
diseased brain, calling piteously all the while, 
"Mother! Mother! Mother!" 

Another form of horror occupied a bed adjoining. 
He was one of the wounded who had fallen in the 
first of the battle, sinking into the mud, into which 
he was afterwards frozen, and from which he could 
not extricate himself. He had been cut out from the 
congealed earth ; but his feet had been so badly 
frozen as to render amputation necessary. The flesh 
in places had sloughed ofl" his frozen back and thighs, 
and his lower limbs were paralyzed. 

"How long were you left on the field?" I inquired. 

" Two days and nights," was the answer. 

" If you had been a rebel you could not have been 
used worse ! " I replied, with indignation ; for the 
dire necessities of war were then new to me. " Who 
was to blame for such neglect?" 

" Oh, they couldn't be bothering with us," said the 
patient sufierer ; " they had to take the fort, and Ave 
didn't expect anybody to stop to see after us, till that 
was done." 

" Did you think of that while you lay there freez- 
ing those long nights?" 

" Of course ! " was his nonchalant answer. " We 
knew we should be taken care of as soon as the fort 
surrendered. We were as anxious for that — we 
who were wounded — as were the troops who were 



190 ROBBLN^G THE WOUNDED. 

fighting. We fellows on the ground all cheered, I 
tell you, when the fort showed the white flag, and 
we knew the rebs had surrendered. I had dropped 
into a drowse, when I heard the boys cheering 
enough to stun you. I couldn't cheer myself, for I 
was most gone. I guess I shouldn't have held out 
much longer. But Jerry, over in that bed," nodding 
across to a bed opposite, " his left arm was gone, and 
his right hand shot away; but he threw up his right 
stump of an arm, and hurrahed enough to split his 
throat." He gave this account feebly and discon- 
nectedly — and not rapidly and coherently, as I have 
Avritten it. He was yet in a low condition; but the 
surgeon thought he would ultimately recover, maimed 
as he was. 

As the tide of battle flowed and ebbed around the 
fort during the three days' conflict, our wounded men 
on the field were sometimes brought within the lines 
of the enemy, by the surging back and forth of the 
combatants. They were well clad, and had money; 
for they had been paid only a few days before. The 
rebels were very insufficiently clothed; and, when 
the opportunity offered, they rifled the pockets of 
our helpless fellows, robbed them of their watches, 
and stripped them of any clothing they coveted. 
Wounded though they were, our men, in some 
instances, fought like tigers against this robbery, 
two or tliree lying together uniting against the rebel 
thief. They were overpowered by the robbers; and 
some who resisted were clubbed to death with their 
own muskets, and others were pinned to the earth 
with their own bayonets. Incredible as it seems, 
some of these latter were in this ward of the badly 
wounded, and in every instance were recovering. 



"l AM AFRAID TO DIE ! " 191 

" Well, boys," I said to some of them, " you got 
more than you bargained for this time. Don't you 
wish you had remained at home?" 

"]N^ot a bit of it! " was the plucky answer. "We 
enlisted as folks marry, for better or worse; and if 
it's for the worse, we oughtn't complain." 

I had nearly completed the tour of this ward, mak- 
ing memoranda for letters which the men desired 
written, or of some want to be gratified or some 
errand done, — every bed being occupied by a very 
severely wounded man, — when I halted beside one 
on whose handsome face the unmistakable look of 
death was settling. He labored painfully for breath, 
and large drops of perspiration stood out on his fore- 
head. 

" You are suffering a great deal," I said. 

"Oh, yes! oh, yes! " he gasped, " I am, I am! but 
not in body. I can bear that. I don't mind pain — 
I can bear anything — but I can't die ! I can't die ! " 

" But perhaps you may not die. It is not certain 
but you may recover. While there is life there is 
hope, you know." 

" Oh, no, I can't live — I Iniow it — there's no 
chance for me. I've got to die — and I canH die! 
I am afraid to die ! " 

I went to the surgeon, still in the ward, and in- 
quired about the man. The poor fellow was right; 
there was no chance for him. "He was horribly 
cut up," the surgeon said. One leg had been am- 
putated, the other had suffered two amputations, the 
last one taking off the leg between the knee and hip ; 
the right arm had been broken, a caisson had crushed 
the lower left arm, and he had been shot twice 
through the abdomen. " There had been no expec- 



192 PITIFUL MENTAL DISTRESS. 

tation of his life wlicn he was first brought in," said 
the surgeon ; " and it seemed an utterly hopeless 
case. But he has pulled along from day to day, as 
if in defiance of death, and at last there seemed a 
ghost of a chance for his recovery; but gangrene 
has set in, and defies medical treatment, and it will be 
over with him in a few hours. All you can do is to 
help him die easy." I returned to the poor fellow, 
whose anxious eyes were following me. 

" What does the doctor say? " he asked. " Oh, I 
know I must die! I can't! I can't! I canHP'' And 
he almost shrieked in his mental distress, and trem- 
bled so violently as to shake the bed. 

"Why are you afraid to die?" I inquired. "Tell 
me, ni}^ poor boy." 

" I ain't fit to (lie, I have lived an awful life, and 
I'm afraid to die. I shall go to hell." 

I drew a camp-stool to his bedside, and, sitting 
down, put my hands on his shoulders, and spoke in 
commanding tones, as to an excited child: "Stop 
screaming. Be quiet. This excitement is shorten- 
ing your life. If you must die, die like a man, and 
not like a coward. Be still, and listen to me." And 
I proceeded to combat his fear of death and his sense 
of guilt with assurances of God's willingness to par- 
don. I told him of Christ's mission on earth, and 
assured him that however great had been his sins 
they would be forgiven of God, since he was penitent, 
and sought forgiveness. And I bade him repeat 
after me the words of a prayer, which he did with 
tearful earnestness. I backed up my assurances by 
quotations from the Bible and illustrations from the 
life of Christ; but I made little impression on the 
dying man. 



MINISTRATIONS OF A METHODIST MINISTER. 193 

"Can't you get a Methodist minister?" he asked. 
"I used to belong to the Methodist church, but I fell 
away. Oh, send for a Methodist minister! " 

One of the attendants remembered that the hospital 
steward was also a Methodist minister, and hastened 
to find him. To him I communicated the particulars 
of the case, and besought him to assist in allaying the 
anguish of the dying man, which was distressing to 
witness. Whatever was done for him must be done 
speedily, as he was fast sinking. 

The announcement that the steward was a Method- 
ist minister was beneficial to the sufierer. To him 
he listened eagerly. " The love of Christ," was the 
chaplain's theme. " He had only to trust in the 
Saviour, only to ask for forgiveness, and God, who 
was always ready to pardon, would grant his prayer. 
Christ had died to save just such conscience-smitten, 
stricken, penitent souls as he " — thus ran the chap- 
lain's talk. And then he prayed, earnestly, feelingly, 
tenderly — the dying man frequently taking up the 
prayer, and joining in it. 

"Can't you sing, chaplain?" I inquired. For it 
seemed to me the poor fellow, in this last hour 
of life, needed soothing more than argument or 
entreaty. 

Immediately, in a rich, full, clear tenor, whose 
melody floated through the ward, and charmed every 
groan and wail into silence, he sang hymn after 
hymn, all of them familiar to most of his audience. 

" Come, humble sinner, in whose breast 
A thousand thoughts revolve ; " — 

" Love divine, all love excelling, 

Joy of he'aven, to earth come down ; " — 



194 THE MAGIC OF SONG. 

"Jesus, lover of my soul, 

Let nie to thy bosom fly;" — ^ 

"My days are gliding swiftly by, 
And I, a pilgrim stranger ; " — 

all of them hymns so well known to his dying 
auditor, that I saw he followed the singer, verse after 
verse. The music affected him as I had hoped. 
The burden rolled from the poor boy's heart, and in 
feeble, tender tones he said, " It's all right with me^ 
chaplain! I will trust in Christ! God will forgive 
me ! I can die, now ! " 

" Sing on, chaplain! " I suggested, as he was about 
to pause, to make reply. " God is sending peace 
aiid light into the troubled soul of this poor boy^ 
through these divine hymns, and your heavenly 
voice. Sing on ! Don't stop ! " 

He continued to sing, but now chose a different 
style of hymn and tune, and burst forth into a most 
rapturous strain : — 

" Come, sing to me of heaven, 
For I'm about to die : 
Sing songs of holy ecstasy, 
To waft my soul on high. 

There'll be no sorrow there, 
There'll be no sorrow there, 
In heaven above, where all is love, 
There'll be no sorrow there." 

I looked down the ward, and saw that the wan 
faces of the men, contracted with pain, were bright- 
ening. I looked at the dying man beside me, and 
saw, underneath the deepening jDallor of death, an 
almost radiant gleam. 

With folded hands, and upturned gaze, almost 



DRIFTED TO THE IMMORTAL SHORE. 195 

entranced with his own music, the chaphun continued 
to sing : — 

" When cold, the hand of death 
Lies on my marble brow, 
Break forth in songs of joyfulness, 
Let heaven begin below. 

There'll be no sorrow there," etc. 

" Then to my raptured ear 

Let one sweet song be given ; 

Let music charm me last on earth. 

And greet me first in Heaven. 

There'll be no sorrow there," etc. 

A second and a third time he repeated the song", 
the exultant air suiting well the triumphant words. 
Patients, attendants, surgeons, all in the ward, glowed 
under the soaring melody, and the dying man's 
face grew rapturous. Then the chaplain was sum- 
moned awa}^, by a call from his oflSce. It was getting 
late in the afternoon, for I had tarried a couple of 
hours at this bedside, when my friends came from 
other wards of the hospital, to say that it was time 
to return. 

" Don't go ! stay ! " whispered the fast sinking 
man. The words rushed to my memory, " Inasmuch 
as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye 
have done it unto me," and I promised to remain 
with him to the end. The end came sooner than 
any one thought. Before the sun went down, he 
had drifted to the immortal shore. The mutilated, 
lifeless corpse was carried to the dreary " dead- 
house," and preparations made for burial next day. 

I reached my friend's house, with my ner- 
vous system at its highest tension. I could not 
talk, eat, sleep, nor sit. All night I paced my 



196 MEANING OF WAR. 

room, living over and over the experiences of 
the day. And this was only my entree into hospital 
life and work. I was not equal to it — I would 
withdraw — I could not live in the midst of the 
agonies of war. And then I remembered that what 
I had witnessed in that ward of eight}^ men, was 
but a small segment of the physical anguish wrought 
by the battle of Fort Donelson, — that two thousand 
of our men were wounded, and twenty-five hundred 
of the enemy, — and that this battle might be multi- 
plied by hundreds before the war ended. 

x4.nd this war was but one of countless thousands 
which men had waged with one another, in which 
hundreds of millions had been slain — transfixed 
with lances, hewn in pieces with battle-axes, torn in 
fragments with plunging shot, or deadly canister, or 
fiendish bombs, mowed down with raking fires of 
leaden sleet, engulfed in the explosion of subterra- 
nean mines, impaled on gleaming bayonets, dying 
on the field, of wounds, fever, neglect, — forgotten, 
uncared for, a prey to the vulture, and devoured by 
the jackal and wild beast. While the mothers who 
bore these men, and the wives who loved them, 
lived on, suffering a prolonged death, finding the 
sweetness of life changed to cruel bitterness because 
of their bereavement. iS^ever before had I attained 
a comprehension of what was meant by that one 
word " war." 

Let me say that this instance which I have nar- 
rated, was the only case of fear of death I met in my 
visits to the hospitals. I often found men reluctant 
to die, because of families dependent on them — or 
because of a natural tenacity to life — or because, 
as they phrased it, " they did not want to be mus- 



GLOOM IN ST. L'OUIS. 197 

tered out till the end of the war." But this man 
was the only one I ever met who was afraid to die. 
Over and over again I have listened to public narra- 
tions of horrible dying scenes in hospitals and on 
battle-fields — but I knew personally of but this one 
instance. 

We spent some two or three weeks in the different 
hospitals of the city, visiting every ward, and com- 
municating with every patient, doing for him what- 
ever we could. I cannot recall a single cheerful or 
humorous event connected with the visit. There 
was gloom eveiywhere. St. Louis itself was under 
a cloud. The spirit of rebellion within it was 
intimidated, but not subdued. Business was 
depressed, stores were closed, and of its old- 
time sociality and hospitableness there was no sign. 
The guns of the fortifications were pointed at 
the city, holding ifc to compulsory neutrality, if not 
loyalty. 

Fifteen thousand troops marched out of Benton 
Barracks, the great camp of rendezvous, and from 
other encampments while we were in St. Louis, and 
went down the river, on their way to the front. Many 
of them were without muskets, drill, or military ex- 
perience. Some of the regiments had no surgeon, not 
a surgical instrument, nor a particle of medicine with 
them, while their oflScers were fresh from the plough, 
the shop, the counting-room, or ofiSce, ignorant of 
military tactics, Iniowing nothing of military hygiene 
or sanitary laws. Li this wholly unprepared condi- 
tion, these raw, undisciplined soldiers were, in a few 
weeks, precipitated into the battle of " Pittsburg 
Landing," or " Shiloh" — one of the most desperate, 
hotly contested, and sanguinary fights of the whole 



198 THE DEAD AND DYING EVERYWHERE. 

war, when the two armies, for two days, stood up 
and fought, without intrenchments on either side. 

Through whole long streets these regiments 
marched, on their way to the boats, with colors flying, 
and bands playing, in their first enthusiasm rending 
the air with their shouts; and not a face appeared at 
a door or window with a " Godspeed" in its look, 
not a woman waved her handkerchief in Avelcome, 
not a child shouted its pleasure. The closed houses 
frowned down on them, as if untenanted; and the 
few men who passed on the sidewalks drew their hats 
over their eyes, and slouched by sullenly. St. Louis, 
at that time, had no heart in the gigantic prepara- 
tions of the government to conquer the rebellion. 

To add to the general depression, the city was full 
of the relatives of the dead or wounded, waiting for 
their bodies to be given them for burial, or striving to 
nurse them back into health. Fathers and mothers, 
wives and sisters, were in the wards beside the men 
they loved, and who had passed through the hell of 
battle alive, but mangled and mutilated. How they 
fought death, inch by inch, for possession of these 
remnants of humanity! In every ward were dying 
men; in every dead-house were the coffined dead, and 
the ambulance, standing near, was ready to take the 
cold sleepers to their last resting-places. The men 
whom no home fi'iends visited looked with hungry 
eyes at the manifestations of affectionate interest be- 
stowed on their comrades, and, after a few prelimi- 
naries, were included in the petting, soothing, and 
praising, that were always helpful to the poor fellows. 

In one hospital I found a patient, feeble and 
ghastly, packing a valise with the help of a conva- 
lescing comrade. He had received a furlough, and 



WEDDING IN THE HOSPITAL. 199 

was going home for a month, and, despite his low 
physical condition, was full of courage. Three days 
later, I had occasion to pass through the same ward, 
and the man was just breathing his last. 

"What has happened?" I inquired. "Wasn't the 
poor fellow able to make the journey after all?" 

" His furlough was revoked for some reason ; and 
he immediately fell back on the bed in a faint, and 
hasn't rallied yet." 

He never rallied, bnt died from the removal of the 
stimulus of the promised visit home. 

A young captain in the officers' ward interested 
me greatly, and I went daily to visit him. A refined 
and delicate fellow, with a very sensitive nervous 
organization, he had suffered severely. He had en- 
dured two amputations of the arm, which still refused 
to heal, and a third was ordered. He had become so 
reduced that the surgeon feared the result, and so 
informed his patient. Then the young officer tele- 
graphed the girl who was to be his wife, and who 
had only delayed coming to him because of his ear- 
nest entreaty that she would not encounter the hor- 
rors of a hospital unless he sent for her. She came 
as fast as the lightning express could bring her; and, 
at her own desire, before he submitted to another 
operation, they were married by the chaplain. The 
arm was removed to the shoulder. For a day or two 
there was hope of him, and then he sank rapidly. 

I entered the ward about two hours before his 
death, and found his three days' bride ministering to 
him with inexpressible tenderness. Thei-e were no 
tears on her cheek, no lamentations on her lip, but 
her face shone with unnatural brightness, and she 
seemed to be lifted above the depression of her sur- 



200 THE BRIDEGROOM DIES. 

roundings. Mrs. and myself were about to pass 

them by, not thinking best to intrude on the sacred- 
ness of their privacy or sorrow. But the look in the 
husband's eyes invited us, and we moved softly 
towards the couch of death. He was conscious and 
understood what was said, but could only speak in 
occasional whispers. 

"You are ready to go?" asked Mrs. , my 

hostess, who had seen much of him, and whom he 
welcomed with a smile. 

For answer, he looked at his young wife, who was 
gazing in his face. She understood him, and an- 
swered : 

" Yes, we are both ready — he, to go, and T, to 
stay." And, turning to us, she added, " When he 
enlisted, I gave him to God and the country. I ex- 
pected this, and am prepared for it." 

The next morning I met her embarking for home 
with the l3ody of her beloved. Her own relatives 
were a married sister, and a brother in the Army of 
the Potomac. She was taking the coffined remains 
to the widowed mother of the dead man, who lived 
near Centralia, 111., and who had two other sons in 
the army, and a son-in-law. The exaltation of her 
spirit still upbore her, and I saw that nature would 
not assert itself till her duties to the dead were over. 



CHAPTEE YIII. 

I BECOME ACCUSTOMED TO HOSPITAL WORK — FILTH AND 
DISCOMFORT, NEGLECT AISTD SUFFERING — LEAVES FROM 
MY EXPERIENCE — MESSAGES FROM THE DYING TO LOVED 
ONES AT HOME. 

Cairo an immense Basin, partially filled — Skilful Pilotage needed — Com- 
fortless Hospitals — "My Wife came this Morning" — "Bring me a 
drink from the Spring" — The "Brick Hospital" a Marvel of Excel- 
lence — "Sisters of the Holy Cross" its Nurses — The young rebel 
Prisoner — Longing for his Motlier — "Philip Sidneys" in every Hos- 
pital — Mary Safford my Companion the second Time — Her Method of 
Work — Her Memorandum Book and Baskets — Something for eveiy 
one — " You are the good Faiiy of the Hospitals " — Men crying for Milk 
— Mourning the Loss of " Mother Bickerdyke " — Wounded Soldier from 
" Island No. Ten "— Noble Letter from his Wife — " The Children needed 
him more than I" — Eulogy of Mary Safford — Her Career since the 
War — Professor in the Boston University School of Medicine. 

'ROM St. Lonis we went to Cairo, 111., where 
were other hospitals overflowing with the 
sick and wounded. It was by no means a 
lovely place at that time. Every one visit- 
ing it bestowed on it a passing anathema, 
levee bnilt np around the south and west 
protected it from the overflow of the Mississippi 
and Ohio. From the levee the town looked like an 
immense basin, of which the levee formed the sides 
and rim. It was partially filled with water; and the 
incessant activity of the steam-pumps alone saved it 
from inundation. Yile odors assailed the olfactories, 
as one walked the streets. If it chanced to rain, one 
13 201 




202 "the order of exercises." 

was in a condition to obey the 'New Testament 
injunction, to "be steadfast and immovable"; for the 
glutinous, tenacious mud held one by both feet, mak- 
ing locomotion anything but agreeable. How to find 
my way to any given point was a problem; for the 
paths were fearfully circuitous, and skilful pilotage 
was necessary. 

Gro where I would, this was " the order of exer- 
cises." I went down a flight of crazy stairs, across 
a bit of plank walk, around a slough of unknown 
depth, behind somebody's barn, across somebody's 
back yard, over an extempore bridge of scantling 
that bent with my weight, then into mud, at the risk 
of losing rubbers, boots, and I sometimes feared for 
my feet, and, at last, fen-ied over a miniature lake in 
a skiff", I reached my destination. " Living in Cairo 
converts us soldiers into sailors," said the soldier 
who rowed me from the "Brick Hospital." "Yes," 
said another, " the children born in this town are 
web-footed." They certainly ought to be. 

My object in visiting Cairo was to see the hospi- 
tals — not the town. I first visited the regimental 
hospitals, never very attractive institutions. There 
were some half-dozen of them, established in small 
dwelling-houses, carriage-houses, sheds, or other 
accessible places. Were I to describe them as I saw 
them, the account would be discredited. Compressed 
Avithin their narrow limits were more filth and dis- 
comfort, neglect and suffering, than would have suf- 
ficed to defile and demoralize ten times as much 
space. The fetid odor of typhoid fever, er^^sipelas, 
dysentery, measles, and healing wounds, was ren- 
dered more nauseating by unclean beds and un- 
washed bodies; while from the kitchen, Avhich 



"my wife came this moening!" 203 

opened into the hospital wards, came the smell of 
boiling meat and coffee, befouling still more the air 
of the unventilated apartments. 

The nurses wei'e convalescent soldiers, wan, thin, 
weak, and requiring nursing themselves; and, though 
they were kind to their comrades, they were wholly 
worthless as nurses. I saw no signs of a surgeon in 
these poor hospitals, although the patients told me a 
doctor had visited them one, two, or thi'ee days be- 
fore, the statements varying in the different hospi- 
tals. I^or were there any signs of woman's pres- 
ence, save in one instance, where a poor fellow, with 
mingled tears and laughter, told me that " his wife 
had come that morning, and now he believed he 
should get Avell, although the night before he had 
utterly given up hope." 

And, to be sure,- 1 soon met his wife — a cheery, 
active little woman, under whose vigorous sweeping, 
and scrubbing, and purifying, a dingy corner chamber 
was growing sweet and clean. And when she 
opened her trunk for my inspection, and showed the 
coarse, but clean sheets, shirts, drawers, and socks, 
she had brought, with " a new horse blanket for a 
rug, when he put his feet on the flooi-," I could easily 
believe her assurance that, " with the cleanliness, and 
the sun shining through the clear window-panes, and 
her to make his tea and gruel, he'd a'most think him- 
self at home in a day or two." 

It gave me the heartache to see the patient suffer- 
ers in these hospitals, for they seemed left to their 
fate. They were very young, homesick, and read}^ 
to break down into a flood of weeping at the first 
word of sympathy. The sick men were always more 
despondent than those who Avere wounded. For 



204 "sisters of the holy cross." 

under the wasting of camp diseases they became 
mentally as weak as children; while the men wounded 
in battle were heroes, and were toned np to fortitude. 
One fine fellow, not yet twenty, was raving in the 
delirium of brain fever. He fancied himself at home 
with his mother, to whom he incessantly appealed for 
" a drink of water right from the spring at the back 
of the house, the coldest and clearest in all Illinois." 

He was sponged with tepid water, his tangled hair 
smoothed, his burning head bathed, and his stiff, 
filthy clothing changed for clean garments from the 
depot of the Chicago Sanitary Commission located 
in the town. He dropped off into a quiet sleep im- 
mediately, which lasted for several hours. Similar 
beneficial results followed similar small ministrations 
in all these wretched hospitals. Kesidents of Cairo 
were so tortured with the neglect and suffering of 
these hospitals that they were finally broken up, at 
their instance, and the patients transferred to the 
excellent " General Hospitals." The men always 
rebelled at being sent away from their regiments, and 
preferred to risk the chances of suffering and neglect 
with their comrades to any promise of better care, and 
wiser nursing, separated from them. 

There was one General Hospital in Cairo, called by 
the people the "Brick Hospital." Here the " Sisters 
of the Holy Cross " were employed as nurses, one or 
more to each ward. Here were order, comfort, clean- 
liness, and good nursing. The food was cooked in 
a kitchen outside the hospital. Surgeons were de- 
tailed to ever}^ ward, who visited their patients twice 
daily, and more frequently if necessary. The apothe- 
cary's room was supplied with an ample store of 
medicines and surgical appliances, and the store-room 



LONGTXG FOR HIS MOTHER. 205 

possessed an abundance of clothing and delicacies for 
the sick. 

It was a sad sight to pass through the wards and 
see row after row of narrow beds, with white, worn, 
still faces pressed against the white pillows. And it 
gave one a heartache to take each man by the hand, 
and listen to his simple story, and to hear his anxie- 
ties for wife and children, of whom he received no 
tidings, or for the dear mother, whom he could hardly 
name without tears. 

A young man from West Virginia, a rebel pris- 
oner, must have possessed the highest type of manly 
beauty, in health. He w^as battling for life, for he 
hoped to see his mother once more, who was on her 
way to him. There was something very winning in 
the lad's manner and spirit; and surgeons, nurses, 
and sick comrades, were deeply interested in him. 
Oh, how he longed for his mother's presence! " Z>o 
you really believe she will get here before I die? " he 
inquired anxiously, giving the date of her leaving 
home and her distance from him. T sought to buoy 
up his sinking spirits, and, sitting beside him, talked 
to him as if he were my own son. " If I had been 
home in Western Virginia I shouldn't have got into 
this hospital. My mother is a Union woman; but 
my uncle in Tennessee, for whom I was clerking, 
was a secessionist, and I had to go into the Confed- 
erate service." 

In every ward the men greeted me gladly. They 
stretched out their hands to take mine ; they talked 
freely of their homes, their friends, and regiments. 
Over and over again, with indescribable pathos, I 
was told by the poor fellows: "I've got a good 
mother at home, one of the best of mothers. She'd 



20G MARY SAFFORD. 

come to me if she knew I was m the hospital; but I 
dont want to w^orry her, and I'll write her when I get 
well/' The Christ-like patience of the men surprised 
me. I had been accustomed, as are most women, to 
think men more impatient in sickness, more exacting, 
and less manageable than women. But this was not 
true of these soldiers in hospital. They complained 
little, endured much, were grateful for the least kind- 
ness, and as a rule were very unselfish. There were 
Philip Sidneys in every hospital, who refused com- 
forts and ministrations offered them, in behalf of 
some more suffering comrade. 

My second visit to the Cairo hospitals, was made 
in company with Miss Mary Safford, then a resident 
of Cairo. She commenced her labors immediately 
when Cairo was occupied by our ti'oops. If she was 
not the first woman in the country to enter upon hos- 
pital and camp relief, she was certainly the first in 
the West. There was no system, no organization, 
no knowledge what to do, and no means with which 
to work. As far as possible she brought order out 
of chaos, systematized the first rude hospitals, and 
with her own means, aided by a Avealthy brother, fur- 
nished necessaries, when they could be obtained in 
no other way. 

Surgeons and ofiicers everywhere opposed her, 
but she disarmed them by the sweetness of her man- 
ner and her speech ; and she did what she pleased. 
She was very fi'ail, jwtlte in figure as a girl of twelve 
summers, and utterly unaccustomed to hardship. 
She threw herself into hospital work with such en- 
ergy, and forgetfulness of self, that she broke down 
utterly before the end of the second year of the war. 
Had not her friends sent her out of the country, till 



A CHEERY VISION". 207 

the war was over, she would have fallen a martyr to 
her patriotic devotion. She was in a Paris hospital 
for months, under the care of the most eminent sur- 
geons of the world, receiving surgical treatment for 
injuries incurred in those two years of over-work. 

Every sick and wounded soldier in Cairo, or on 
the hospital boats, at the time of my visit, knew her 
and loved her. With a memorandum book in one 
hand, and a large basket of delicacies in the other, 
while a porter followed with a still larger basket, we 
entered the wards. They had a vastly more comfort- 
able appearance than on the occasion of my first visit. 
The vigorous complaints entered against them, and, 
more than all, a realistic description of them that 
found its way into the Chicago papers, had wrought 
reforms. The baskets were packed with articles of 
sick-diet, prepared by Miss Safford and labelled with 
the name of the hospital and number of the ward 
and bed. 

The effect of her presence was magical. It was 
like a breath of spring borne into the bare, white- 
washed rooms — like a burst of sunlight. Every 
face brightened, and every man who was able, half 
raised himself from his bed or chair, as in homage, 
or expectation. It would be difficult to imagine a 
more cheery vision than her kindly presence, or a 
sweeter sound than her educated, tender voice, as 
she moved from bed to bed, speaking to each one. 
Now she addressed one in German, a blue-eyed boy 
from Holland — and then she chattered in French to 
another, made superlatively happy by being ad- 
dressed in his native tongue. 

The baskets were unpacked. One received the 
plain rice pudding which the surgeon had allowed; 



208 THE GOOD FAIRY OF THE HOSPITAL. 

there was currant jelly for an acid drink, for the 
fevered thirst of another ; a bit of nicely broiled 
salt codfish for a third; plain molasses gingerbread 
for a fourth; a cup of boiled custard for a fifth; 
half a dozen delicious soda crackers for a sixth ; 
"gum-drops" for the irritating cough of a seventh; 
baked apples for an eighth; cans of oysters to be 
divided among several, and so on, as each one's 
appetite or caprice had suggested. One man wished 
to make horse-nets, while his amputated limb was 
healing, and she had brought him the materials. 
Another had informed her of his skill in wood-carv- 
ing, but he had no tools to work with, and she had 
brought them in the basket. 

From the same capacious depths she drew forth 
paper, envelopes, postage stamps, pencils, ink, At- 
lantic Monthlies, Chicago Tribunes, checkers and a 
folding checker-board, a jack-knife, needles, thread, 
scissors, buttons, music books, for the musically in- 
clined, of whom there were many in every hospital; 
a " waxed end "" and a shoemaker's awl, for one to 
sew up rents in his boots; knitting-needles and red 
yarn, for one who wished to knit his boy some 
" reins " for play, — every promise was remembered 
by Miss Safford. 

"Oh, Miss Safford!" said one bright young fel- 
low, "you are the good fairy of this hospital! Can't 
you bring me the invisible seven-leagued boots when 
you come again, so that I can just step into Mil- 
waukee and see what a certain little woman and her 
baby are doing, in whom I am interested?" 

One hospital thoroughly visited, Miss Safford de- 
parted, leaving it fnll of sunshine, despite its rude- 
ness and discomforts, and hastened home, rejoining 



MEN^ CHYING FOR MILK. 209 

me in a short time in " Hospital Xo 2," witli a fresh 
instaUnent of baskets and goodies — and so on 
tlirough the whole number. The visiting done for 
that day, she hurried home with her filled memoran- 
dum book, in which had been noted the wants and 
wishes for the next day, and began anew the market- 
ing, purchasing, cooking, packing, and arranging. 
Was it wonderful the delicate little woman broke 
down, almost hopelessly, at the end of two years? 

In one ward, two men were weeping bitterly ; and 
when she inquired the cause, it appeared that the 
surgeon had given them permission to drink a tum- 
bler of milk, night and morning. But the hospital 
funds were lacking for its purchase, and " French 
Maria," the milk- woman, who had just passed 
through the ward, had refused to let them have it on 
credit. This was too much for the fortitude of the 
feeble sufferers, and they were weeping like children. 
Miss Saffoi'd hurried out, and, recalling the milk- 
maiden, obtained the milk for the day, directing her 
to leave the same quantity every day, and come to 
her for payment. In another hospital, the men were 
all in the dumps. Every one looked sad. " What 
has happened?" inquired Miss Safford. "Mother 
Bickerdyke went down the river this morning, and 
we shall all die now," was the disconsolate answer. 
'No wonder they mourned the loss of " Mother Bick- 
erdyke," who more than any other person, in the 
beginning, assisted in the regeneration of the badly 
managed hospitals of Cairo. 

As we were making the tour of the hospitals, a 
tall and stalwart man was brought in on a stretcher, 
who had been shot the night before on one of the 
gunboats stationed at Island Kumber Ten. It was 



210 HE FEEBLY WHISPEHED, ''MY WIFE." 

not a dangerous wound apparently — only a little 
hole in the left side, that I could moi*e than cover 
with the tip of my smallest finger — but the grand- 
looking man was dying. 

"Can we do anything for you?" one of us inquired, 
after the surgeon had examined him, and he had 
been placed in bed. 

"Too late! too late! " was his only reply, slightly 
shaking his head. 

" Have you no friends to whom you wish me to 
write?" 

He drew from an inside vest pocket — for his cloth- 
ing was not removed — a letter, enclosing a photo- 
graph of a most lovely woman. " You wish me to 
write to the person who has sent you this letter?" 

He nodded slightly, and feebly whispered, " My 
wife." 

Bowing her head, and folding her hands. Miss Saf- 
ford offered a brief touching prayer in behalf of the 
dying man, bending low over him that he might hear 
her softly spoken words. Her voice faltered a little, 
as she remembered in her prayer the far-absent wife, 
so near bereavement*. " Amen !" responded the dy- 
ing man, in a distinct voice, and then we left him 
with the attendant, to minister to others. Lifting the 
photograph, he gazed at it earnestly for a few mo- 
ments, pressed it to his lips, and then clasped it in 
both hands. When I returned to his bed, some 
twenty minutes later, he was still looking upward, 
his hands still clasping the photograph, and his face 
was iri-adiated with the most heavenly smile I have 
ever seen on any face. I spoke to him, but he seemed 
not to hear, and there was a far-away look in the 
gaze, as though his vision reached beyond my ken. 



LETTER OF A SUPERIOR WOMAN". 213 

I stood still, awestruck. The wardmaster ap- 
proached, and laid his finger on the wrist. " He is 
dead ! " he whispered. 

The duty of writing the widowed wife was as- 
signed me, and I took the letter and photograph. 
Ah, what a letter was that which the dying man had 
placed in my hands ! He had evidently not replied 
to it, for it had been only just received, and had not 
the worn look of having been carried long in the 
pocket. It was from his wife, informing her husband 
of the death, on the same day, of their two children, 
three and five years old. It was the letter of a supe- 
rior woman, who wrote nobly and tenderly, hiding 
her own grief, in her desire to comfort her husband. 

" I do not feel that we have lost our children," 
thus she wrote ; " they are ours still, and will be ours 
forever. Their brief life was all sunshine, and by 
their early departure they are spared all experience 
of sorrow and wrong. They can never know the 
keen heartache that you and I must suffer at their 
loss. It must be well with them. Their change of 
being must be an advance, a continuance of existence 
on a higher plane. And some time, my dear Harry, 
we shall rejoin them. I sometimes fear, my darling, 
that you may meet them before I shall. Their death 
has taken from me all the fear of dying, which, you 
know, has so greatly distressed me. I can never 
fear to follow where my children have led. I have 
an interest in that other life, whatever it may be, 
an attraction towards it, of which I knew nothing 
before. Oh, my dear Harry, do not mourn too 
much ! I wish I were with you, to share with you, 
not alone my hope, but the great conceptions of that 
other life which have come to me." 



214 "she saved my life." 

1 enclosed to the bereaved wife her own letter and 
photograph taken from the dead hands of her hus- 
band, and told her all I knew of his death. A cor- 
respondence ensued, which stretched itself along* the 
next three years. In the depth of her triple bereave- 
ment, the saddened woman found comfort in the 
belief that her children and husband were united. 
" I sometimes believe the children needed him more 
than I," was her frequent assertion. 

While writing of Miss Safford, let me add the 
testimony of one of the captains of the Fifty-Seventh 
Illinois Volunteers, which regiment was badly cut 
up, a few days later, at the battle of Shiloh. 

"God bless Mary Safford!" he writes. "She 
saved my life. When I was wounded at Shiloh I 
was carried on board the hospital boat, where she 
was in attendance. My wound got to bleeding, and, 
though I was faint from loss of blood, I did not 
know what was the matter. She found it out, for 
she slipped in a pool of blood beside my bed, and 
called a surgeon to me, just in time to save my life. 
Gracious! how that little woman worked! She was 
everywhere, doing everything, straightening out af- 
fairs, soothing and comforting, and sometimes pray- 
ing, dressing wounds, cooking and nursing, and 
keeping the laggards at their work. For herself, 
she seemed to live on air. 

" And she had grit, too, I tell you. They brought 
Sam Houston's son aboard, wounded, a rebel officer, 
wearing the Confederate uniform, and ordered one 
of the privates removed from a comfortable berth 
he had, to make room for this young traitor. You 
should have seen Miss Safford! She straightened 
up, as if she were ten feet tall, and declared, in a 



THE CAIRO ANGEL. 215 

grand way, that ' the humblest Union soldier should 
not be removed to make room for a rebel officer, not 
if that officer were General Lee himself ! ' She 
stood by the berth, and looked so resolute that they 
were glad to find another berth for Sam Houston's 
son. I do not wonder that all the boys called her ' the 
Cairo angel ! ' She did as she pleased everywhere, 
and the biggest sort of men obeyed her. She was 
the only one that seemed to know what to do on that 
boat." 

Many another Union soldier in the West owes his 
life to Mary Safford, and is proud to acknowledge it. 
After the battle of Belmont, she was the first to go 
on the field, in the face of the enemy's guns, which 
ploughed the ground around her with their plunging 
shot. Tying her handkerchief to a stick, she waved 
it above her head, as a flag of truce, and continued 
her ministrations to the wounded, whose sufferings 
were aggravated by a keen wintry wind sweeping 
over them. When war broke out in Italy, she was 
in Florence, and, at the invitation of Madame Mario, 
immediately joined the Italian ladies in their prepara- 
tions for sick and wounded soldiers. So ingrained 
is her inclination to help the needy, that in JN^oi'way, 
Switzerland, and Germany, I heard of her devising 
ways and means for the assistance of poor girls who 
desired to emigrate to America, where they could 
find employment, and had relatives. 

Her experiences during the war undoubtedly de- 
cided her future career. Returning from Europe 
with improved health, she determined to fit herself 
for medical practice. Graduating from a medical 
college in the city of New York, she returned to 
Europe, enlarging her knowledge in studies at Zu- 



216 A HELP IN TIME OF TROUBLE. 

rich and Yienna, where she had esj^ecial advantages 
in clinics. She is to-day one of the Professors in 
the Boston Univei-sity School of Medicine, where 
she takes high rank as lectnrer, physician, and sur- 
geon. Her home life is as charming as though she 
were not a professional woman. Her residence is m 
a delightful part of the city of Boston, where she 
passes the brief leisure of her busy life, with the 
children of her love and adoption. But neither the 
charm of her home and family, nor her literary and 
professional labors, render her oblivious to the de- 
mands of the poor and friendless, who are sure to 
find in her " a present help in time of trouble." 
She listens patiently and tenderly to all who need 
her assistance, and the humblest have reason to bless 
God for the life of this grand, good woman. 



CHAPTER IX. 

AWAITING THE BATTLE OF SHILOH — PREPARATIONS FOR 
THE WOUXDED — AWFUL SLAUGHTER — VARIED PHASES 
OF HOSPITAL LIFE — " MISSING." 

A Perfect Military Hospital — "Mother Angela," the Lady " Superieure " — 
" White-winged Sun-bonnets " — Battle of Shiloh — Appalling Slaughter 
on Both Sides — Rebel Prisoners' Ward — " You-uns is very good to we- 
uns! " — The Rebel Surgeon's Fear — Meet an Old Acquaintance among 
the Rebel Wounded — The Valiant Eleventh Illinois — Great Prejudice 
against Protestant Nurses — The " Sisters" preferred — " They never see 
anything, nor hear anything, and tell no Tales! " — Good General Strong, 
Post Commander at Cairo — Am sent to St. Louis for Invalid Soldiers — 
Turner's "Descriptive List" Missing — Found in the Clerk's Office 
— General Curtis discharges him — He also Furloughs young Brackett — 
Great Jollification in the Wai'd — They accompany me to Chicago. 

'ROM Cairo we proceeded to Mound City, 
Paducah, Bird's Point, and other places 
where hospitals were established. Except in 
Mound City, everything was in a chaotic 
condition, compared with the completer ar- 
rangements afterwards made. The hospital at 
Mound City occupied a block of brick stores, built 
before the war, to accommodate the prospective com- 
merce of the town. They had not been occupied, 
and, as the blockade of the Mississippi rendered it 
uncertain when they would be needed for their legit- 
imate use, they were turned over to the Medical 
Department for hospital use. At the time of my 

217 




218 A SUPERIOR MILITARY HOSPITAL. 

visit, the Mound City Hospital was considered the 
best military hospital in the United States. This 
was due to the administrative talent of Dr. E. S. 
Franklin, of Dubuque, Iowa, who, despite paucity of 
means and material, transformed the rough block of 
stores into a superb hospital accommodating one 
thousand patients. Fifteen hundred had been 
crowded into it by dint of close packing. 

The most thorough system was maintained in every 
department. There were an exact time and place for 
everything. Every person was assigned to a par- 
ticular department of work, and held responsible for 
its perfect performance. If any one proved a shirk, 
incompetent, or insubordinate, he was sent oif on the 
next boat. A Shaker-like cleanliness and sweetness 
of atmosphere pervaded the various wards, the sheets 
and pillows were of immaculate whiteness, and the 
patients who were convalescing were cheerful and 
contented. The " Sisters of the Holy Cross " were 
employed as nurses, and by their skill, quietness, 
gentleness, and tenderness, were invaluable in the 
sick-wards. Every patient gave hearty testimony to 
the kindness and skill of the " Sisters." 

" Mother Angela " was the matron, the " Swperi- 
eure^'' of these " Sisters " — a gifted lady, of rare cul- 
tivation and executive ability, with winning sweet- 
ness of manner. She was a member of the Ewing 
family, and a cousin of Mrs. and General Sherman. 
The " Sisters " had nearly broken up their famous 
schools at South Bend, Ind., to answer the demand 
for nurses. If I had ever felt prejudice against these 
" Sisters " as nurses, my experience with them during 
the war would have dissipated it entirely. The 
world has known no nobler and no more heroic 



DEVOTION OF CATHOLIC SISTERHOODS. 219 

women than those fonnd in the ranks of the Catholic 
Sisterhoods. Bnt I often sympathized with some of 
the sick men, who frequently expressed a wish for a 
reform in the " headgear " of the " Sisters." " Why 
can't they take off those white-winged snn-bonnets 
in the ward?" asked one. "Sun-bonnets!" sneered 
another of the irreverent critics ; " the3''re a cross 
between a white sun-bonnet and a broken-down 
umbrella; and there's no name that describes them." 

It was very evident from jjreparations that another 
great battle was impending. Indeed, the surgeons 
admitted this. During the jDrevious week the hospi- 
tal beds had been emptied of all who were well 
enough to be furloughed, or sent back to their regi- 
ments. Over six hundred beds were awaiting occu- 
pancy by the wounded of the next battle, and another 
hospital was being fitted up rapidly with accommo- 
dations for five hundred more. Orders had been 
received at the rooms of the Commission in Cairo for 
supplies to be in readiness for twenty thousand 
wounded men; and shipments of battle-relief stores 
were arriving from Chicago in unprecedented quan- 
tities. 

The battle came off at Shiloh before I reached 
home. The enemy, seventy thousand strong, swept 
down on the Union forces, greatly inferior in num- 
bers, in an unbroken, overwhelming rush. It sur- 
prised them, and put them to flight like a flock of 
sheep, before they had time to form in line of battle. 
General Grant was at Savannah, several miles down 
the Tennessee river, when the fight began. But 
General Johnston, Commander of the rebel forces, 
was on the field, directing the movements of his 
army, and hurling it against the flying and disorderly 

14 



220 THE GREAT BATTLE AT SHILOH. 

masses of the J^oi-th. Step by step, the Union army 
was driven towards the river; and General Beaure- 
gard's promise to " drive the whole ^N^orthern ai-my 
into the Tennessee " seemed sure of fulfilment. The 
close of the first day's conflict, a balmy, beautiful 
Sunday in April, found the Union forces broken, de- 
spondent, and exhausted; while the enemy were 
confident, and waited for the morning to complete 
their triumph. 

The next day, with General Grant in command, our 
men retrieved their losses of the day before. Guns 
were recaptured, lost ground was won again, and the 
batteries of the enemy, wrested from their posses- 
sion, were turned on them with murderous fire. 
Contesting the ground, inch by inch, fighting val- 
iantly and with desperation, the enemy were driven 
from the field, and moved off* towards Corinth, where 
the next struggle was to be made for possession of 
the valley of the Mississippi. The close of the 
second day reversed the decision of the day before, 
and the costly victory remained with our troops. 
Ten thousand dead lay on the field, " the blue " and 
" the gray " sleeping together, for the enemy had left 
their dead for our men to bury. Among them lay 
dead horses in harness, broken caissons, abandoned 
blankets and muskets, scattered drums and haver- 
sacks. Trees, whose branches had been wrenched 
off by bursting shells, looked as if Titans had been 
hurling thunderbolts among them. The air was 
heavy with the sulphurous breath of gunpowder, and 
tainted with the smell of blood. 

The loss on each side was fourteen thousand in 
killed, wounded, and missing, — a mighty slaughter, 
and an appalling amount of suffering, for which no 



MOURNIiq^G CAME WITH VICTORY. 221 

adequate preparation could be made. All the means 
of relief of the Northwest were called into active ser- 
vice, and yet there were unavoidable neglect and 
suffering. Following so quickly on the carnage of 
Donelson, there was scarcely a hamlet in the whole 
Northwest that was not in mourning for its dead. 
And the notes of rejoicing for the severely won vic- 
tory were mingled with the sound of the tolling bell, 
•and muffled drum, heard everywhere. 

I hastened to Chicago to assist in the Avork which 
the battle of Shiloh precij^itated on the Commission. 
But I remained at Mound City long enough to visit 
every ward of the hospitals, and to converse with 
every patient. Without an exception, all testified to 
the excellence of the care they received, and to the 
kindness of their treatment. One ward was devoted 
entirely to wounded rebel prisoners, taken at Fort 
Donelson. Most of them were unlettered farmers' 
sons, innocent even of the alphabet. Their speech 
was almost unintelligible at times ; for they talked a 
patois^ made up in part of negro gibberish and in 
part of barbarous English. 

" You-uns is very good to we-uns," said one of the 
convalescents, clad in a uniform of butternut jean. 
" How much furderer Norf do you-uns come from?" 

" 'Spect I've got to tote a crutch round in ole 
Mississip' the balance o' my life, — / do," said another, 
dproj)os to nothing. 

" This 'ere grub's better'n th' ole woman's bacon 
and hominy," was the eulogiiim of a third, as he 
tasted his soup. 

Two of the boys, who were superior to the others 
in bearing and mtelligence, were but sixteen and 
eighteen years of age. They were from Mississippi. 



222 GOOD TREATMENT OF REBEL PRISONERS. 

Each had a fearfully crushed and mutilated leg. 
Dr. Franklin had saved both from amputation, and 
had patched and pieced and fitted together the 
broken bones, and torn ligaments, as one would 
mend a damaged specimen of bric-a-brac or rare 
china. The boys were very grateful, and delighted 
to recount, to any who would listen, the story of Dr. 
Franklin's skill. Although the lads were more 
intelligent than their comrades, they had no ade- 
quate conception of the magnitude of the war, nor 
of the circumstances that led to it. They drifted 
along with the current, and enlisted because the 
rest did. 

Dr. Hall, the surgeon of their regiment, had 
allowed himself to be captured that he might take 
care of " the boys." He frankly confessed that he 
never imagined rebel prisoners would fare as well 
as our own wounded men, and "• he feared things 
might be different in a reverse of circumstances." 
Ah, the poor fellows in Libby Prison and at 
Andersonville " found things " very " different ! " 
Dr. Hall was from Mississippi, a gentlemanly and 
cultivated man. He declared himself opposed to se- 
cession in the abstract, and sought to hinder his state 
from rushing out of the federal compact, "but when 
Mississippi went out of the Union, honor compelled 
him to go with her." He spoke mournfully of this 
fratricidal war, but avowed himself ready to fight 
for the South as long as the war lasted. 

A young captain, wearing the Confederate gray, 
kept his dark eyes upon me, following me, as I went 
hither and thither, with intense scrutiny. "Wonder- 
ing why I was an object of interest, I commenced a 
conversation with him. 



AN" UNEXPECTED MEETING. 223 

" I have met you before," he said, after a httle 
preUminary conversation. " You do not remember 
me ? It is not strange," he continued, " for it is 
twenty years since I saw you on St. Leon plan- 
tation, in Mecklenburg county, Va., and then I 
was a boy ten years old." He had enlisted in Mis- 
sissippi, as had most of the men in the ward. I 
recalled him as a bright little playmate of one of my 
pupils in southern Virginia, whose home was on a 
neighboring plantation. He was a rabid secession- 
ist, and did not hesitate to avow his convictions in 
the most defiant manner. 

Two boys belonging to the valiant Eleventh 
Illinois were in another ward, still suffering from 
the terrible wounds of the Fort Donelson battle. 
There were eighty-five in their company when they 
went into battle, but only seven came out alive and 
nnharmed. They were shot down the day before 
the surrender, having been beaten back nearly two 
miles, fighting all the way, and were thought to be 
mortally wounded. Their uniforms, new the day 
before the battle, were stripped off by their inhuman 
enemies, whom they saw pillaging, and plundering 
the dead and d^^ing. I^early naked, the poor fel- 
lows managed to creep under both their blankets, 
lying as closely as jDOSsible to each other for warmth, 
and in this way lay neglected for forty-eight hours. 

"What will you do when you get well?" I in- 
quired. 

'' Going haclc to. our regiment to jiglitl'''' was the 
plucky answer. " Hiram and I went in for three 
years, but I think we'll stay through the war. 
We've got an account to settle with these rebs now. 
We sha'n't forget in a hurry how the Eleventh Illi- 



224 POOR SURGEONS IN HOT WATER. 

nois was cut up at Donelson." I^ever were there 
greater loyalty and bravery than were shown by our 
young soldiers. It was to me a perpetual wonder, 
while their Titanic endurance of suffering compelled 
my admiration. 

I found evei'ywhere, at this time, the greatest 
prejudice against Protestant women nurses. Medi- 
cal directors, surgeons, and even wardm asters, openly 
declared they would not have them in the service, 
and that only the " Sisters " of the Catholic Church 
should receive appointments. I sought for the cause 
of this decision. " Your Protestant nurses are 
always finding some mare's-nest or other," said one 
of the surgeons, "that they can't let alone. They 
all write for the papers, and the story finds its way 
into print, and directly we are in hot water. Now, 
the ' Sisters ' never see anything they ought not to 
see, nor hear anything they ought not to hear, and 
they never write for the papers — and the i-esult 
is we get along very comfortably with them." It 
was futile to combat their prejudices, or to attempt 
to show them that they lacked the power to enforce 
their decisions. I contented myself with declining 
to take any part in filling the hospitals and boats 
with Catholic Sisters, as I was entreated, nor would 
I consent to do anything to discourage the detail- 
ing of Protestant nurses. 

On my way home, I met, at Centralia more than a 
dozen Protestant nurses, en route for the hospitals. 
They were women of nearly middle age, serious, 
practical women, sensibly dressed, with no other 
baggage than a necessary change of clothing in a 
valise. All were women of experience, had been 
carefully examined and properly detailed. They 



"our husbands ant> sons need us." 225 

bore with them letters of recommendation, and 
written assignments to their respective posts, signed 
in due form by Dorothea Dix, who was authorized to 
detail women nurses by the Secretary of War. 

I told them the little chance they had for employ- 
ment, and assured them they would be imwelcome, 
and would undoubtedly be sent back. They listened 
as though they heard not. 

" Our husbands, sons, and brothers need us, and 
want us, if the surgeons do not. If we are sent 
from one post, we shall go to another. And if the 
medical authorities are determined to employ Catho- 
lic Sisters, to the exclusion of Protestant nurses, we 
shall appeal to the Secretary of War." 

The Protestant nurses carried the day, chiefly be- 
cause of their good sense and worth, and hundreds 
went to the front before the end of the war, wel- 
comed by both surgeons and patients, and rendering 
invaluable service. 

General Strong was the post commander at Cairo, 
and I met him there, when returning home. I shall 
always retain a tender memory of him, for, though 
not a man of military genius, he sympathized with 
the soldiers, whether in the field, in camp, or in hos- 
pital. I was indebted to him for many favors, Avhich 
he granted for the sake of humanity — for the sym- 
pathy he felt for sufi'ering everywhere. The last 
time I met him was at St. Louis, about eighteen 
months before the close of the war, when he gave me 
his always ready help, and saved at that time the 
life of one of our Chicago boys. 

Among the thirty-four young men who enlisted on 
the same day from the " Church of the Pedeemer," 
in Chicago, was one, a universal favorite, who should 



226 EVERYBODY LOVED HIM. 

have been rejected because of physical disability, but 
whose patriotism and ambition would not allow him 
to remain behind, when his companions enlisted. 
They all went into the Chicago Mercantile Battery. 
After many ups and downs, and much hard service, 
he broke down utterly, and was sent with a sick 
comrade to the " House of Refuge Hospital " in St. 
Louis. He could never again be well, sank rapidly, 
and was certain to die soon in the hospital, if not 
discharged and sent home. This was the message 
that came to his friends and acquaintances — and 
everybody loved him. Immediate steps were taken 
to procure his discharge from the service, and his 
return to his home. 

Tiiree or four gentlemen of standing went to St. 
Louis, one after anothei', but though it was conceded 
by all the medical authorities that young Turner 
ought to be discharged on account of hopeless in- 
validism, each in turn came back without him. 
There was something wrong with his papers, that 
forbade his release, and as an order had just been 
issued forbidding furloughs, they were unable to 
take him to his home, that he might have the privi- 
lege of dying with his kindred. Finally, I was be- 
sought to undertake his discharge, and though it 
seemed absurd for me to attempt what three oi" four 
influential men had failed to accomplish, the inter- 
cession in his behalf was so urgent, and my own 
interest in him so tender, that I went on the errand, 
although hopeless of success. 

The hindrance to the discharge of the young man 
was occasioned by the loss of his " descriptive list." 
An order had been sent to his command for another, 
but as the battery was in the field, moving from 



THE MISSES-G LIST FOU^D. 227 

place to place, it might be months before the order 
was answered. Young Turner denied the truth of 
this statement, as did Brackett, his sick comrade, 
and both declared the surgeon mistaken. They were 
young men of great intelligence and business train- 
ing, and not likely to be in the wrong. They be- 
longed in the same battery, had come together to 
the same hospital, were located in adjoining beds in 
the same ward, and asserted, again and again, that 
they surrendered their descriptive lists to the hos- 
pital clerk at the same time. 

I was confident, from my long acquaintance with 
both, that they were correct, and that Turner's miss- 
ing list must be found, if at all, in the hospital office. 
So I returned to the surgeon, and told my story, and 
expressed my belief that the lost list was somewhere 
in the office. The face of the young clerk flushed 
a little with annoyance, but he politely drew from a 
pigeonhole the lists of "Ward D," filed alphabeti- 
cally, and, standing beside me, began to turn them 
over, while I read aloud the name endorsed on the 
back of each. 

" Stop ! " I cried, as a familiar name met my eye. 

" ISTo," said the clerk, " that name has cheated all 
Turner's friends who have been down here. His 
name is Lowell D. Turner, and this, you see, is 
Loring D. Turner." 

" Open it; let's see the inside." He did, and there 
the name was correctly written, but inaccurately 
engrossed on the back. This was the long-looked- 
for list. I had had just such an experience before. 

It was plain sailing now. The surgeon made 
out the certificate of disability, and sent a military 
messenger with me to the medical director. He 



228 A PERT LITTLE LIEUTENANT. 

promptly wrote an order for the discharge papers, 
which the messenger boy received, and then he and 
I moved on to the headquarters of the Department, 
where they were to be filled out, and the work would 
be done. There I was halted. A pert little lieuten- 
ant, who sat smoking in the office, with his heels 
higher than his head, fell back on his dignity and 
" red tape," and declared these papers could not be 
made out in precedence of others, which it would 
take two weeks to dispose of, unless General Curtis, 
now the Commander of the Department, gave an 
order for them to receive immediate attention. And 
with evident satisfaction he informed me that Gen- 
eral Curtis was holding a meeting with his staif 
officers, and had given positive orders not to 
admit any one to his room until four in the after- 
noon. All the time, I knew that the bribe of a dol- 
lar would remove the scruples of the lieutenant, and 
procure for me the rapid filling out of my papers. I 
had had previous experience in this line also. 

I went out of the room, into the hall, and was 
standing still, trying to think what next to do, when 
General Strong happened to pass. He immediately 
came to me with extended hands, and beaming face, 
with his oft-asked question on his lips, — 

" My dear madam, what can I do for you? " 

" General Strong, if you can obtain me an inter- 
view of five minutes with General Curtis, you will 
make me the most grateful woman in St. Louis." 

" Come with me ! " Up stairs, and down stairs, 
and through almost interminable halls, he led the 
way, and I followed. Every guard saluted him 
courteously, and allowed us to pass, until we reached 
General Curtis' room. A word of explanation to 



THE rURLOUGHED SOLDIERS. 229 

the guard, and he opened the door, when General 
Strong led me in, where General Curtis was sitting 
in solemn conclave with the officers of his staff. I 
had met the General in Helena, Ark.; and to my 
great relief he remembered me, and rose to meet me, 
calling me by name. I made known my errand, and 
obtained a written permission from him to take poor 
Turner to Chicago that afternoon. 

"Can I do anything more for you?" asked the 
General, so kindly that I ventured to ask a fifteen 
days' furlough for Brackett, the sick comrade, whose 
family also lived in Chicago, promising to take 
charge of both, and to see them safely delivered to 
their kindred. Happy woman was I, for that, too, 
was granted, and the furlough was placed in my 
hands. 

" General Strong, you can never measure the good 
you have done ! " I said to him, when we were out- 
side General Curtis' room. " You have probably 
saved the life of a noble young fellow, and have 
made two households happy, by the great favor you 
have granted me." 

" I am very happy, madam, to have served them 
and you. It will be something pleasant for me to 
remember on my death-bed." A very brief time 
afterwards, the good man came to his death-bed. If 
the memory of his humanities did not then lighten 
the dark valle}^, he surely heard the One Voice wel- 
coming him to heaven — " Enter thou into the joy 
of thy Lord!" 

I hurried back to " Ward D," in the " House of 
Refuge Hospital," at some distance from the heart 
of the city. It was past noon and the train left for 
Chicago at three o'clock. As I opened the door of 



230 AN AFFECTING SCENE. 

the ward, every soldier who was sitting up looked at 
me scrutinizingly. They all knew my errand; all 
had come to love young Turner, and had buoyed 
him up, during my absence, with the prediction that 
he would certainly see his friends the next morning. 

" Oh, I'm afraid you haven't got Lowell's dis- 
charge ! " said young Brackett, Ht his usual post 
beside Turner, who sat propped in bed; "you look 
dreadful glum ! " 

" You know I told you not to indulge in any ex- 
pectations of my success." 

Poor Turner gasped, turned a deadlier white, and 
would have fallen over had I not caught him. " My 
dear boy, don't do so silly a thing as to faint — you 
are no longer a soldier! You are to go to Chicago 
with me this afternoon, and here is General Curtis' 
order. Your discharge papers and back pay will be 
sent to you ! " 

"Bully for you, Turner! " was the first unconven- 
tional congratulation from a neighboring bed, and in 
a moment there was a tempest of cheers and rejoic- 
ing surging about Turner's cot. Brackett was quiet, 
but very tender towards his feeble comrade, con- 
gratulating him with eyes full of tears. 

" General Curtis was so kind as to grant you a 
furlough of fifteen days, Brackett: do you want to 
spend your time in St. Louis, or in Chicago? I have 
transportation for you, if you want to go." 

JSfow, there was a commotion in the ward. Most 
of the men were convalescent, and in good spirits. 
Brackett looked at me as one dazed for a moment, 
and then threw his arms around my neck and kissed 
me, as if I were his mother. Two or three of the 
men turned somersaults on their beds — another 



THE soldier's FINAL DISCHARGE. 231 

called for three cheers, for me, General Curtis, and 
Turner, and Brackett. And half a dozen organized 
themselves into a band, and promenaded the ward, 
one playing a bugle, another a bagpipe, another a 
double bass drum, another a flute, all in admirable 
pantomime, and in mimicry of the tones of the 
various instnnnents. 

The excitement was too much for Turner. lie 
fainted several times before we left St. Louis, and I 
watched him through the night in the sleeping-car, 
hardly expecting he would live to reach his friends. 
But he did, and was nursed by them into such tolera- 
ble health, that, after two years' residence in the 
Minnesota pineries, he ventured to propose to the 
girl whom he had long loved, and they were married. 
Ten years of blissful wedded life were theirs, when 
he" succumbed to the pulmonary trouble which had so 
long menaced him — and his young wife followed 
him, two years later, dying of the same disease. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE DARKEST PERIOD OF THE WAR — MY VISIT TO WASH- 
INGTON IN 1862 — STRANGE EXPERIENCES ON THE JOUR- 
NEY—PITIFUL SCENES IN A CONVALESCENT CAMP. 

Woman's Council called in Washington — Mrs. Hoge and myself the Chicago 
Delegates — Darkest Period of the War — Am detained at Suspension 
Bridge — A Restless Crowd in the Waiting-room — A blind Vocalist 
Charms them to Quietness — Homeward-bound Invalid Soldiers on the 
Trains — Repulsive Instrument of Slave Torture — Trains going North 
from Washington Packed with Furloughed Soldiers — President Lincoln's 
Explanation — '| The War to be ended by Strategy!" — We take in our 
Charge a Sick Soldier — New Experience in Baltimore — Visit to Doro- 
thea Dix — Her extensive Work — Superintendent of Women Nurses — 
Washington Soldiers' Home — Amy Bradley the Matron — " Solid 
Chunks of Sunshine " — Visit Alexandria — " Camp Misery " — "A per- 
fect Golgotha" — Great Indignation of Visitors — Amy Bradley takes 
up her Abode in the Camp — Great Improvement follows — "The Sol- 
diers' Journal " — We visit President Lincoln. 

fJS" :N'ovember, 1862, the United States Sani- 
tary Commission called a council of its 
members at Washington, to which every 
Branch of the Commission sent women rep- 
resentatives. Sanitary supplies were rapidly 
on the decrease, while the increasing demand 
for them was pitiful. The people lacked confidence 
in the ability of the Commission to carry to the 
suffering soldiers the supplies intrusted to its care. 
They knew nothing of its system of inspection 
and relief. They did not then comprehend the dire 
necessities of the hospital and battle-field, which grew 
out of the expansion of the army, and the increased 




WOMEN IN COUNCIL. 233 

area of its operations; nor yet the inability of the 
government to meet these necessities, while it was 
taxed to the utmost in every other direction. 

A more perfect organization of, the system of relief 
was necessary; so also was a greater concert of ac- 
tion and a unification of methods, while the patriot- 
ism of the people, their loyalty to the Union, and 
their sympathy with the soldiers, needed to be quick- 
ened and fired with ' new zeal. Only in this way 
would it be possible for the Commission to provide 
assistance and consolation for the sick and sufiering 
of th^ army " abundantly, persistently, and methodi- 
cally." To the women of the country the Commis- 
sion looked for the accomplishment of these great 
aims. Hence the call for the "Woman's Council." 

It was a time of great depression and discourage- 
ment. In the East there were only reports of dis- 
aster to our armies. After the battle of Antietam, 
which resulted in no substantial advantage. General 
McClellan rested so long a time on the north side of 
the Potomac, that President Lincoln and his military 
advisers ordered an immediate advance of the army. 
But McClellan still delayed, and, while he halted, 
raids were made into Mai-yland and Pennsylvania by 
the enemy, who penetrated to Chambersburg, a score 
of miles in the rear of our army, and then speedily 
returned to Virginia, having entirely completed the 
circuit of the Federal forces. When, at length, 
McClellan began to cross the Potomac, with the 
design of engaging the enemy, he received a tele- 
gram from Washington relieving him of the com- 
mand of the army, and ordering him to turn it over 
to General Burnsidc, who reluctantly and with many 
protests accepted it. 



234 THE PEOPLE MUCH DEPRESSED. 

This announcement fell on the country like a thun- 
derbolt, and a fiei'ce partisan discussion sprang up 
concerning the wisdom of the removal and the merits 
of the retired commander, which created great bitter- 
ness. Following quickly on the heels of this change, 
Burnside made a rapid march to Fredericksburg, hop- 
ing to capture the place before Lee's army could reach 
it, and thus cut off his retreat towards Kichmond. 
He was repulsed with frightful slaughter, and the 
wearied and bleeding, but heroic Army of the Poto- 
mac was driven from before Richmond. 

At the West the military movements were not 
crowned with the success the public had expected 
from previous rapid victories. The triumphant fleet 
which had regained control of the Mississippi above 
and below Yicksburg, was bafiled by this city, built 
on a high bluff, fortified like another Gibraltar,, and 
bidding defiance to the gunboats. It had seemed 
to the people that the work of opening the great 
river was about ended, and now it appeared to them 
just begun. The enemy again invaded Missouri, 
and made alarming raids into Tennessee and Ken- 
tucky. Cincinnati was threatened and consternation 
sent among its citizens, who rallied for immediate 
defence, as did the people of other similarly situated 
towns. Instigated by the enemy, the Indians on the 
frontier began their depredations, and Minnesota 
became the theatre of a horrible massacre. 

The question of giving recognition to the South- 
ern Confederacy was openly discussed in England — 
by the press, at public meetings, and in both Houses 
of Parliament. The South became bold and confi- 
dent, and its President appointed a day of thanks- 
giving throughout the Confederacy, because of its 



A DARK PERIOD OF THE WAR. 235 

successes and hopeful prospects. Those who op- 
posed the war at the JSTorth broke out into defiant 
demands for an immediate cessation of hostiUties, 
and for " peace at any price." The loyal masses 
found themselves confronted by an enemy within 
their own territorial limits. Everywhere there were 
doubt, despondency, gloom, and forebodings. It 
was one of the darkest periods of the war. 

It was with heavy hearts that Mrs. Iloge and my- 
self started from Chicago at this time, on a mid-winter 
journey to Washington. On account of my honored 
father, who had been waiting his release from life 
thi-ough weary months of physical infirmity, I was 
obliged to go to Washington by way of Boston. I 
was detained at Suspension Bridge one entire night 
by a collision of freight trains, which tore up the 
tracks, blocked the road, and hindered all travel for 
twelve or fourteen hours. There were not even sit- 
ting accommodations for the great multitude emptied 
into the comfortless station-rooms, as several other 
trains were halted here besides our own. After the 
first three or four hours of waiting, as the night 
deepened and the time wore heavily on, our condi- 
tion became more comfortless, and the great crowd 
became intolerably uneasy. Mothers were impa- 
tient, children fretting and crying, fathers persist- 
ently ill-natured. One or two games of fisticuffs 
were extemporized, by way of settling political 
differences, which most of the men were discussing 
in loud and heated language; and there were univer- 
sal grumbling and growling over our uncomfortable 
situation, thus making a bad matter worse. 

Among the few who possessed their souls in 
patience was a young lady, nearly blind, and her 

15 



236 THE POWEK OF MUSIC. 

brother, who carried a viohn in a case. Some one 
carelessly asked the lad to " play a tune," when the 
boy replied that he did not play, but that his sister 
was an excellent performer on the violin, and several 
other instruments, and that she also sang. An ear- 
nest entreaty fi'om three or four of us brought the 
Tiolin from its case, which the young girl lifted to 
her shoulder. Inclining her cheek caressingly to 
it, she tuned it, and then gave us melody after 
melody of exquisite sweetness, that gradually hushed 
the turbulence of the restless throng, and charmed 
the noisiest into silence. A song was besought of 
her — and without excuse, or apology, or delay, the 
almost sightless girl gave us the touching ballad, 
" Just before the battle, mother," in a voice whose 
sweetness, purity, and pathos, thrilled every heart. 
Song after song was now asked for and granted, 
until the unknown singer had exhausted her reper- 
toire of patriotic and common songs, when she fell 
back on operatic airs, giving English translations of 
Italian gems, and proving herself as skilful in execu- 
tion as she was gifted in voice. 

Gi'adually the mood of the heterogeneous audience 
changed from curiosity to interest. And when our 
young vocalist sang the majestic Marseillaise, throw- 
ing herself into the spirit of the grand hymn, interest 
heightened into enthusiasm. Here and there, one 
and another joined in the chorus, until it was sung 
by many voices. Men threw up their hats and 
cheered, and women clapped and applauded. For 
two hours she sang and played in the dingy, crowded 
waiting-room, only stopping occasionally, to mend a 
string of the violin, or to put it in tune, until, towards 
daylight, the train came shrieking to the door. And 



THE BLIND SrSTGEE. 237 

for two hours she held the weary, impatient, and at 
times semi-brutal crowd spell-bound by the magic of 
her voice. It was the old story of Orpheus and his 
lyre, charming the beasts from their savageness and 
the mountains from their immobility. In the deten- 
tion at which all had murmured all now rejoiced. 

Some conscientious body, who believed in paying 
for what he received, passed round the hat, taking up 
a collection of nearly twenty dollars, which the girl 
was compelled to accept, as a testimonial of gratitude 
for the most acceptable concert ever given. Our singer 
was chary of information concerning herself, and 
reluctant to speak of her blindness. But we learned 
enough of her to know that her case was one of 
those where nature withholds one gift that she may 
double another. She was on her way to 'New York, 
her brother said, for better cultivation of her rare 
musical gifts. 

All along the route furloughed or discharged sol- 
diers were taken aboard, on their way home, most of 
them maimed, crippled, pale, thin, weary, and shabby. 
Unobtrusive, patient, and submissive, they took what- 
ever accommodations chanced to fall to them. When 
we stopped to breakfast or dine, they bought lunches 
of bread and meat, or brought forth rations from 
their haversacks, that they might more carefully 
husband their slender means. When inquired 
of, they gayly replied that " they had plenty, 
their money and food were ample," and of their 
discomforts they made very light, in a lofty soldier 
fashion. They were on their way home, and this 
soothed every pain, and made the poorest fare deli- 
cious. 

At Springfield, Mass., where we made connection 



238 A SAD RETURN. 

with a l^ew York train for Boston, some twenty more 
of the poor fellows were added to the company. 
They belonged to Maine regiments, and were on 
their way home from Port Hndson, recovering from 
wounds, or convalescing from sickness. Poor fellows ! 
How different their return from their going forth 
to the war! Then, they marched in solid columns, 
gay in new uniforms, led by martial music, cheered 
by admiring crowds, their breasts heaving with ambi- 
tion and patriotism. Now, if the grave had yielded 
its dead, their appearance could not have been ghast- 
lier. Many of the Maine men were without money, 
and knew not what to do on their arrival in Boston, 
in their enfeebled condition, but were confident they 
should find friends, as they had done all along 
the route. All were provided for long before they 
reached Boston; for the people on the train became 
infected with generosity and patriotism, and fi'eely 
gave whatever money was needed. 

While I was in Boston, an instrument of slave 
torture was on exhibition, such as ]N^orthern people 
had often heard described, but in whose existence 
few believed. It was shown at the art rooms of 
"Williams and Everett, on Washington Street, and 
seemed fearfully out of place amid the pictures, stat- 
uary, and bric-a-brac, of the handsome rooms. It was 
a rough, heavy iron collar, weighing half a dozen 
pounds, from which three curved prongs rose, with a 
joint at the back, and closed in front with a rivet. 

It was taken from the neck of a slave girl, near 
Xew Orleans, by Captain S. T. Keed, of the Third 
Massachusetts Cavalry. The girl was about eighteen 
years of age, quite white, — an octoroon, — and very 
beautiful. She had attempted to run away; and, as 




FAMOUS UNION BATTLE-FLAGS 

1. TwenK- first Mass.Kogl. 2. FtM-tieth iS'.Y. liecj't . 3. Kuuri<x-"iitii * sun. Uf<jl. 

i. Twmitv- foiii-tti Mass fiedl. 5. First Mame Heiivy Ai-l. (t First Cojm HeawArl,- 
For Dcscri/>hoiin -sc- poffcs 2F->34. 
PHOTOGRAPHED AND PAINTED FROM THE ORIGINAL FLAGS EXPRESSLY FOR THIS WORK 



LNSTRUMENT OF SLAVE TORTURE. 241 

the city was occui)ied by Federal troops, she was 
suspected of " sympathy with the Yankees." For 
this she was invested with this iron collar, — which 
had rusted into the neck, — and she had been 
chained in a dungeon and half starved for three 
months. 

The girl was taken to the city, where the iron 
collar was removed from her neck by a blacksmith, 
and she was subsequently freed by military authority. 

As we approached Washington, we were filled 
with amazement at the number of furloughed soldiers 
whom we met en route for the N^orth. It seemed as 
if the army was being disbanded. They were not 
like those whom we had met in Massachusetts, for 
few of these were disabled, wounded, or invalid. 
They were bronzed and hardy, jolly and hearty, 
looking as if they had seen service but had been 
toughened by it. They filled the railway stations, 
packed the trains, crowded the platforms of the cars, 
and cheered our southward bound train as they 
passed us. We could not understand it. While in 
Washington we received an explanation of this phe- 
nomenon, from no less an authority than President 
Lincoln. 

" The army is constantly depleted," he said, " by 
company officers who give their men leave of ab- 
sence in the very face of the enemy, and on the eve 
of an engagement, which is almost as bad as deser- 
tion. At this very moment," he continued, " there 
are between seventy and a hundred thousand men 
absent on furlough from the Army of the Potomac. 
The army, like the nation, has become demoralized 
with the idea that the war is to be ended, the nation 
united, and peace restored, by strategy, and not by 



242 INCIDENT ON THE RAILROAD. 

hard desperate fighting. Why, tlien, sliould not tlie 
8oldiers have furlonglis? " 

As we were approaching Baltimore slowly, experi- 
encing numerous delays, our train ran off the track 
and we were detained for hours. AVhile we waited, 
the afternoon deepened into evening, and despite the 
continued tramping in and out of impatient men, 
who vented their distress at our slow progress in 
emphatic and not very reverent language, I fell 
asleep. I was awakened by a peculiar noise, like 
that of an animal in distress. The conductor just 
then passed through the train, and Mrs. Hoge asked 
of him an explanation of the distressing sounds. 

"A drunken soldier on the platform of the rear 
car. Madam ! " was the nonchalant answer. 

It was snowing furiously. The cries of distress 
continued, rising at times into short, sharp shrieks. 
The conductor returned through the train, and Mrs. 
Hoge again accosted him ; — 

"Drunk or sober, conductor, that man is in dis- 
tress. He is a soldier, and must not be left on the 
platform. Please bring him in here." He gruffly 
refused, declaring that " drunken soldiers were no 
company for ladies ! " and rudely pushed ahead. 

Mrs. Hoge rose and went to the door, and I fol- 
lowed her. A man lay coiled in a heap on the 
platform of the rear car, writhing in the fierce throes 
of convulsions. With assistance from bystanders, 
we brought him in, arranged a rough bed with the 
seats, unbuttoned his military overcoat, brushed off 
the snow that covered him, and then looked into the 
pale face of a delicate lad of eighteen. His staring 
e3'es saw nothing; his limbs were rigid; he was as 
cold as if dead; and his mouth was flecked with 



"at home with my mother." 243 

bloody foam. In the terrible spasms, his teeth had 
bitten through tongue and lips. 

There was no lack of interest now, and no with- 
holding of assistance. Every one in the car was eager 
to help. Blanket shawls were heated and wrapped 
around the slender fellow's figure. Hot bricks, and 
heated sticks of wood, were applied to his feet and 
legs. His hands and pulseless wrists were vigor- 
ously chafed, and hot cloths were applied to the chest 
and abdomen. The train was searched for a physi- 
cian, and at last one was found who added his reme- 
dial skill to our nursing. In about tAvo hours we 
were rewarded for our efforts by seeing the young 
soldier relieved from pain, his muscles relaxed, his 
breathing became regular, and he was conscious. 
Gazing at us wonderingly for a few moments, he 
covered his face with his thin fingers, through which 
the tears trickled. "Excuse me, ladies! I thought 
I was at home with my mother." He was a conva- 
lescent soldier, going from the hospital to his regi- 
ment, and altogether too much of an invalid for the 
exchange. The cold, exposure, fatigue, and im- 
pro23er food of the journey had nearly bereft him of 
life, when we fortunately discovered him. 

Just as we were entering Baltimore an officer with 
a captain's bars on his shoulders came into our coach, 
and accosted our patient, in amazement, — 

" Why, William, what's the matter?" 

Mrs. Hoge answered with much feeling. " He has 
been very near death, but 'is better now. Are you 
his captain, sir? " 

"^ot exactly," was the reply. "I was put in 
charge of one hundred convalescents to be taken 
back to their regiments. Kone of them are well 



24i A DESERVED REPROOF. 

enough to go, but they had to be sent away, the 
hospitals are so crowded, to make room for sicker 
men. Some of my men are as sick as this fellow." 

"•Do you know this young man personally? " in- 
quired Mrs. Hoge. 

" No," he replied, " but they requested me at the 
hospital to be careful of him, as he is delicate, and 
they gave him a good name for pluck and patience. 
I had him in the rear car with the rest, and went out, 
leaving him there. I have been in the smoker, and 
only missed him just now when I went back." 

" I was sick, captain," said the lad; "I thought I 
was going to faint, and went to the platform for air, 
and that is all I know." 

Mrs. Hoge's indignation had been steadily rising, 
and now burst forth. " And this is the Avay you dis- 
charge your obligations to sick soldiers, placed in your 
care! You leave them for hours to be neglected, 
abused, branded as drunkards, while you seek your 
own gi-atification ! Four hours after this boy fell on 
the platform, and was left to die like an animal, you 
come to inquire after him. But for us, you would 
have found only a corpse; for the physician who lias 
attended him declared that he could not have lived 
an hour longer, uncared for. This is not the way, 
sir, to treat the ' rank and file ' of our army, made up 
of the very flower of American young manhood. No 
wonder soldiers desert, if this is a specimen of the 
treatment accorded them. Had this lad died, sir, you 
would have been responsible for his death." She 
spoke sternly, and with feeling. 

The captain winced under her rebuke, and said 
he had not intended to be neglectful, and had not 
supposed William was so badly off. When we vol- 



TOO MUCH KED TAPE. 245 

imteered to stop over in Baltimore, and see him 
safely bestowed in a hospital, he turned him over to 
our care, and gave us a written order for this pur- 
pose. We reached Baltimore at midnight, and for 
two hours rode from hospital to hospital with our 
charge, before we succeeded in finding a place for 
him. At last, we met a surgeon, in charge of a 
smaller hospital, who was willing to cut the red tape 
that barred our sick soldier from the wards, so as to 
admit him. J^either William's captain nor ourselves, 
at that time, were acquainted with the multitudinous 
forms to be observed before admission could be se- 
cured to a military hos])ital. We left him in com- 
fort, and heard from him daily when in Washington. 
On our return to Chicago, weeks later, we received 
a touching letter of thanks from his mother and sister 
in I^ew Jersey, who spoke of their son and brother 
most tenderly, as good and true, faithful and obe- 
dient. 

It was Sunday morning when we arrived in Wash- 
ington; and, as the Sanitary Commission held no 
meeting that day, we decided, after breakfast, to pay 
a visit to Miss Dix. I had known this lady by repu- 
tation for years. I had heard of her deep interest in 
the condition of paupers, lunatics, and prisoners, and 
knew that she had spent her life in their service. She 
had visited poorhouses, prisons, and insane asylums, 
had accomplished reforms, corrected abuses, and 
secured favorable legislation for their relief. With 
a passion for justice, great energy of character, and 
wonderful executive talent, she was a very interest- 
ing personage. I anticijDated great pleasure from 
the interview. 

Miss Dix passed through Baltimore shortly after 



246 VALUABLE SERVICES OF MISS DIX. 

the dire tragedy of April, 1861, when the Sixth Mas- 
sachusetts regiment, on its way to tlie defence of the 
national capital, was mobbed in its streets. Some 
were left dead, and others wounded. Her first work,, 
on reaching Washington, was to nurse to health 
these victims of the Baltimore mob. Washington, 
at that time, was a great camp. Hospitals were has- 
tily organized, and filled with sick, while there were 
few to nuvse them. Everywhere there were confusion 
and disorder, lack of discipline and executive ability. 
Miss Dix offered her services to the government in 
any department where she could be made useful. On 
the tenth of June, 1861, Secretary Cameron vested 
her with sole power to appoint women nurses in the 
hospitals. Secretary Stanton, on succeeding him, 
ratified the appointment; and she had already in- 
stalled several hundred nurses in their noble work, — 
all of them Protestants and middle-aged. She per- 
sonally examined the qualifications of every applicant. 
The women must be over thirty years of age, plain 
almost to repulsion in dress, and devoid of personal 
attractions, if they hoped to receive the approval of 
Miss Dix. She also insisted on good health and an 
unexceptionable moral character. Many of the women 
whom she rejected because they were too young and 
too beautiful entered the service under other auspices, 
and became eminently useful. Many women whom 
she accepted because they were sufficiently old and 
ugly proved unfit for the position, and a disgrace to 
their sex. 

Fortunately we found Miss Dix at home, but just 
ready to start for the hospitals. She was slight 
and delicate looking, and seemed physically inade- 
quate to the work she was engaged in. In her 



OPPOSITION OF SURGEONS. 247 

youth she must have j)ossessed considerable beauty, 
much as she deprecated its possession by her nurses. 
She was still very comely, with a soft and musical 
voice, a graceful figure, and very winning manners 
when she chose to use them. Her whole soul Avas in 
her work. She rented two large houses as depots 
for the sanitary supplies sent to her care, and houses 
of rest and refreshment for nurses and convalescent 
soldiers. She employed two secretaries, owned am- 
bulances, and kept them busily employed, printed and 
distributed circulars, went hither and thither from 
one remote point to another in her visitations of hos- 
pitals, adjusted disputes, settled difficulties where her 
nurses were concerned, undertook long journeys by 
land and by water, and paid all expenses incurred 
from her private purse. Her fortune, time, and 
strength Avere laid on the altar of her country in its 
hour of trial. 

Unfortunately, many of the surgeons in the hospi- 
tals did not Avork harmoniously AAdth Miss Dix. They 
were jealous of her power, impatient of her authority, 
condemned her nurses, and accused her of being 
arbitrary, opinionated, severe, and capricious. Many, 
to rid themselves of her entirely, obtained permission 
of Surgeon-General Hammond to employ Sisters of 
Charity only in their hospitals, a proceeding not at 
all to Miss Dix's liking. I knew, by observation, that 
many of the surgeons were unfit for their office; 
that too often they failed to carry skill, morality, or 
humanity, to their work; and I understood how this 
single-hearted friend of the sick and wounded soldier 
would come in collision Avith these laggards. 

Miss Dix regarded her ai'my Avork as only an epi- 
sode of her life, and, when the Avar closed, returned to 



248 WORK OF THE SANITARY COMMISSION". 

her early labors, working for the insane and the 
criminal, until increasing years and infirmities com- 
pelled a cessation of them. Since the close of the 
war she has resided in Trenton, ]!S^. J. 

Of the prolonged meetings of the Sanitary Com- 
mission held during the week, no account need be 
given. They resulted in the formation of wise plans 
of work, which, faithfully carried out, soon swelled 
the amount of sanitary stores to an extent never 
anticipated.. Special agents were appointed, and 
a thorough system of canvassing was adopted. 
Monthly bulletins were issued by the various 
branches to their tributary aid societies, containing 
latest accounts of actual work, compiled receipts of 
sanitary stores up to date, and a statement of the 
immediate necessities of the hospitals. Earnest and 
successful efforts were made all along the lines to 
induce all organizations working for the relief of 
the army to adopt the Sanitary Commission as the 
almoner of their bounty; and great quickening re- 
sulted, immediately. Henceforth to the end of the 
war " an enthusiastic spirit of devotion to the soldier 
inspired the popular heart." The treasury of the 
Commission was kept full, and " its storehouses 
overflowed with plenteousness." 

The sessions of the Sanitary Commission being 
ended, and the Woman's Council adjourned sine die, 
we remained a few days in Washington to visit hos- 
pitals, soldiers' homes, and other places of interest. 
The hospitals in Washington were, even then, marvels 
of order, comfort, and neatness. Among the nurses 
were some of the very noblest women of the East — 
women of culture, of family, and of rare nobleness 
of character. The Soldiers' Home in Washington 



BENEFIT OF SOLDIERS' HOMES. 249 

had been established by the Commission for the com- 
fort of the private soldier travelling to his regiment 
or home, who ran the risk, while awaiting transporta- 
tion, of being entrapped by sharpers, always seeking 
to fleece every man connected with the army. It 
also received the sick men Avho conld not go on im- 
mediately with their regiments, fmmishing them with 
food, medicines, and care. It obtained the back pay 
of discharged soldiers, secured for them railroad 
tickets at reduced rates, sought to make them clean 
and comfortable before they left for home, and was 
in constant readiness with food or clothing, in large 
quantities, for soldiers who passed through Washing- 
ton in any direction. Forty similar homes were es- 
tablished and maintained before the close of the war. 
On Revei-end Frederick IN". Knapp, an agent of 
the Commission, whose name is imperishably asso- 
ciated with its grand work of special relief, devolved 
the duty of establishing this Home. He selected as 
matron. Miss Amy M. Bradley — an alert, executive 
little woman from Maine. She had been a successful 
teacher before the war, and had already achieved an 
enviable reputation in the hospital service of the 
Commission. For our men speedily fell victims to 
the malaria of the miasmatic swamps of the Chicka- 
hominy during the terrible Peninsular Campaign, in 
the spring and summer of 1862. The hospital trans- 
ports of the Commission did heroic service in those 
dark days, in removing the poor fellows JSTorth, 
where they could have a chance to live, or at least to 
die amid their kindred. Amy Bradley had made 
herself a power on these transports by her skill in 
nursing, in preparing food for the sick and wounded, 
in dressing wounds, and in making herself generally 



250 AMY Bradley's faithfulness. 

useful to the wretched men temporarily placed in 
her care. 

She was absent from the Home when we entered 
it, but the spirit of neatness, good order, and cheer- 
fulness which characterized her was visible every- 
where. There were three hundred and twenty 
exquisitely clean beds awaiting occupants. The 
pleasant reading-room was filled with quiet readers, 
every man of whom seemed comfortable. As we 
spoke to them, each one had his, grateful story to tell 
of Miss Bradley's care and faithfulness. 

" Miss Bradley obtained over one hundred dollars' 
worth of back pay for me, which I could not get 
myself," said one, " and I have forwarded it to my 
family in need of it." 

" One hundred dollars ! " interjected another. 
" She has obtained over one hundred thousand dol- 
lars' worth of back pay from government for sol- 
diers, since she came to this Home." 

" She nursed over nine hundred of us in tlie hos- 
pital," chimed in another, " and only let thirteen die. 
Bring on your doctor who can do better." 

"You ought to see the letters she writes every 
week for the men in this Home," added an assistant. 
" The letters she writes haven't any blue streaks in 
them, but are solid chunks of sunshine." 

In every department of the Home this panegyric 
of Miss Bradley was repeated. She returned just as 
we were departing, and we had the pleasure of an 
interview with the noble little woman, whose untir- 
ing work, begun with the war, for the soldiers, has 
been continued to this day among the poor white 
people of the South. She is still laboring among 
them at Wilmington, N. C. Erect and decisive, 



WHERE THE BKAVE ELLSWORTH FELL. 251 

quick of comprehension and prompt in action, we 
were immediately won by her kindly face and win- 
ning manners. It was not strange that the soldiers 
loved and respected her. 

The next day we went to Alexandria, across the 
Potomac, some nine or ten miles from Washington. 
Jnst outside the town there was a large encampment, 
significantly named by the soldiers, " Camp Misery." 
Here we were to pass the day. We took the car- 
riao-e road rather than the boat. The road was 
through an almost continuous encampment. The 
country was nearly bare of trees, for many of them, 
umbrageous with the growth of centuries, had long 
ago been felled by the necessities of war. The 
fences also had vanished, and the numerous forts and 
groups of tents revealed themselves plainly as we 
rode on. I had driven over this same country many 
times in happier years, and the desolation visible 
everywhere touched me painfully. 

We were " halted " at every bridge, and cross- 
road, were compelled to show our passes, and, hour 
after hour, rode past never-ending trains of heavily 
laden army wagons, rumbling slowly along. Soldiers 
were everywhere — drilling, cooking, cutting wood, 
washing clothes, writing letters, cleaning arms, 
mending clothes, playing games, working on forts, 
digging graves. Whichever way we turned we 
beheld United States soldiers. 

We stopped a moment at the hotel in Alexandria, 
where the chivalric Ellsworth foolishly threw away 
his life. I saw him for the last time in Chicago, just 
before the war began, when he gave an exhibition 
drill of his wonderful Zouaves. They had just re- 
turned home from a triumphal tour through the prin- 



252 THE CAMP A PERFECT GOLGOTHA. 

cipal cities of the East. At the very first call of the 
country, the Zouaves, with their brave Colonel, en- 
tered the service. Their loyalty to the Union created 
a furor wherever they appeared. The career of the 
young and handsome commander was brief, and 
ended in a tragic death. 

Passing the hotel in Alexandria, from the roof of 
which floated a rebel flag, he was so stung by this 
insult to the government, offered within the very 
sight of the capital, that he bounded up the stairway 
and tore it down. On the instant he was shot dead 
by the proprietor of the hotel, who, in his turn, fell 
beside his victim, slain by the avenging bullet of 
Ellsworth's friend and comrade, who had accompa- 
nied him. The hotel had been entirely remodelled, 
as a protection from the visits of the curious. 

In the large encampment at Alexandria were in- 
cluded four camps. One was for "new recruits 
awaiting orders to join regiments in the field." An- 
other was for paroled prisoners waiting exchange. 
Another for stragglers and deserters, captured and 
soon to be forwarded to their regiments. And the 
fourth was for convalescents from the Washington 
and Maryland hospitals. The first two were in any- 
thing but a good condition, there being great desti- 
tution of everything needful and convenient. The 
stragglers' camp was neglected and disorderly, as 
might be expected; but the convalescent camp was a 
perfect Golgotha. The four camps were located on 
a hillside, bare of grass, whose soil was so porous 
that a heavy shower saturated the whole like a 
sponge. The convalescents were camped at the foot 
of the slope, where it was forever damp, even in dry 
weather, from the drainage of the camps above. 



253 

Here, ranged in streets named from the states to 
which they belonged, were fifteen tliousand feeble 
men, all of them unfit for duty, and sent here to 
recover, "i^ecofer/" — this was the governmental 
fiction which glossed over the worst condition of 
things I had ever beheld. 

Most of the men were poorly clad, without blan- 
kets, straw, or money, though many had seven or 
eight months' pay due them. They were lodged, 
in the depth of a very severe winter, in wedge and 
Sibley tents of the smallest pattern, five or six to 
a tent, without floors or fires, or means of making 
any, amid deep mud or frozen clods. They were 
obliged to cook their own food and obtain their own 
fuel; and, as all the timber in the neighborhood had 
been cut, it was necessary for them to go a mile for 
even green wood. 

They slept on the bare ground, or, when it rained, 
as it did while we were there, in the mud. Their 
food was the uninviting rations of the healthy men. 
There were but three surgeons for the four camps; 
and if the boys needed medicine, they must go to 
one of them. The surgeons only visited the hospital 
of the camp, which was full and running over, so that 
many w^ere refused admission who were seriously 
sick, and who remained in their fireless and bedless 
tents. Such destitution, squalor, and helplessness, I 
had never beheld. Bowel diseases were very preva- 
lent; throat and lung difficulties met us at ever}^ 
turn, and the incessant coughing made us all nervous. 

In our party were representatives from most of the 
^Northern states; and there was a simultaneous burst 
of indignation from the lips of all, as we saw the 
utter neglect of these invalids. In Illinois Street, 

16 



254: SOLDIERS INQUIRING ABOUT HOME. 

two young men, connected with the Eighth LUnois 
Cavahy, accosted me by name. They came from 
Chicago, and had been my near neighbors. But the 
mother who bore them would never have recognized 
the skeletonized fellows. Feeble as they were, they 
overwhelmed me with an avalanche of questions 
about home. Women were rare visitors in these 
camps, for the Alexandrian ladies were indifferent to 
the welfare of ]N^orthern soldiers. As the lady visi- 
tors, therefore, sought out the soldiers of their vari- 
ous states, they were instantly surrounded by groups 
of wan and fleshless men, eager to see a woman from 
home who had interested herself to call on them. 
The inquiries made by them can be imagined, but not 
their sad faces and sadder stories. 

We visited many of the miserable little tents, 
where the poor fellows were doomed to pass much of 
their time. They were cold and cheei'less; and 
memories of the condition of their suffering inmates 
gave us the heartache for weeks after. When, on our 
return to Washington, I read in a morning paper 
that half a dozen of the feeblest of these convales- 
cents had frozen to death in their tents during the 
previous cold night, I was not surprised. As we 
left, we were commissioned with affecting messages 
for friends at home. I filled pages of my memoran- 
dum book with these messages and errands. I was, 
to call and see the mother and sisters of one ; to assist 
a wife in getting the discharge of -her hopelessly in- 
valid husband; to convey to a young wife her own 
photograph and that of her child, with a half-finished 
letter taken from the pocket of her dead husband; 
and so on. 

All of us had been accustomed to hospitals from 



DESPONDING MEN TOOK HEART. 255 

the beginning . of the war, and were used to sad 
sights ; but this convalescent camp, — Avhere fifteen 
thousand brave men, who had lost health and heart 
in the service of the country, were huddled as no 
good farmer would pen up cattle, — outweighed in 
sadness anything we had previously seen. The appar- 
ent indifference of the authorities concerning them 
seemed almost brutal. An endless stream of protests 
had been sent to the Secretary of War and the Sur- 
geon-General, to whom the horrible condition of this 
camp was made known; and still it was not broken 
up, nor was any apparent attempt made at its im- 
provement. 

Before we left, we found a gleam of light, for we 
heard again of Amy Bradley. She had been sent 
down to " Camp Misery " by the Sanitary Commis- 
sion, as a special relief agent, and had taken up her 
quarters among the men. She had made frequent 
visits to the camp during the previous three months, 
always bringing supplies, which she personally distrib- 
uted. IN^ow she had come to stay with the conva- 
lescents ; and the desponding men took heart as they 
heard the glad tidings. She had set uj) her tents, 
and arranged her little hospital cook-room, store- 
room, wash-room, bath-room, and office. We were 
told that she had passed round with the officers that 
very morning, as the men were drawn up in line for 
inspection, and had supplied seventy-five almost 
naked men, who were very feeble, with woollen 
shirts. 

We walked over to her hospital tents. She had 
forty patients in them, who were washed, made clean, 
had been warmed and fed. We breathed easier; we 
felt sure that at last light had dawned on the dark- 



256 LIGHT DAWNED ON THE DARKNESS. 

ness. I^or were we mistaken; for, during the next 
six months, she conveyed more than two thousand sol- 
diers from this camp, whose discharges she had ob- 
tained, and turned them over to the Soldiers' Home 
in Washington. Most of them were incurably ill, 
and would have perished but for her divine ministra- 
tions. In four months she had relieved " one hun- 
dred and thirty patients in her little hospital, fifteen 
of whom died." To the friends of the dead she sent 
full accounts of the last hours of their lost ones. 
Before the close of six months she had procured the 
re-instatement of one hundred and fifty soldiers, who 
had been dropped from the muster rolls unjustly as 
" deserters," had secured their back pay to them, 
amounting in all to eight thousand dollars. 

There seemed to be no limit to this little woman's 
capacity for helpfulness. She was as cheery as a 
sunbeam, and infused health, hope, and courage into 
all with whom she came in contact. When, at last, 
the convalescent camp was broken up, and its inmates 
transferred to the " Kendezvous of Disti-ibution " in 
Washington, she located herself among them there. 
She established a weekly pajjer at their headquarters, 
called the " Soldiers' Journal," a quarto sheet of 
eight pages, which was edited with remarkable 
ability, until the breaking up of the Rendezvous and 
disbanding of the hospital at the end of the war. 
" The profits of the paper were twenty-two hundred 
dollars, besides the value of the printing-press and 
materials. This amount was expended for the benefit 
of orphans, Avhose fiithers had been connected with 
the camp, and was increased by generous contribu- 
tions from other sources." 



CHAPTER XI. 

LIFE m A CONTKABAND CAMP — WASHINGTON IN 1865 — A 
CONTRABAND PRAYER MEETING — MY INTERVIEW WITH 
SECRETARY STANTON — THE DRUMMER-BOY OF THE 
EIGHTH MICHIGAN. 

Fugitive Slaves rejoicing in Freedom — Prayer-meeting in Camp — Meet old 
"Aunt Aggy " — An Episode of Slavery — "Thar's a Day a-comin'!" 
— Lively Praying — Tempestuous Singing — Intense Sectarians — A 
Boy Philosopher — Visit Washington in 1865 — Great Changes — 
Deserters from the Enemy — Runaway Negro with a Six-Mule Team — 
Courtesy and Kindness of Secretary Stanton — Meet Admiral and Mrs. 
Farragut — Their Simplicity and Geniality — Lieutenant Cushing, the 
Hero of the Ram Albemarle — Other Eminent Notabilities — The Drum- 
mer Boy of the Eighth Michigan — Enlists with his Teacher — Charlie 
petted by all — His Teacher and Captain Shot at James Island — Fierce 
Life of the Eighth Michigan — Charlie Shares it All — Struck by a 
Chance Shot — Fatal Result. 

COISTTRABA^D camp had been estab- 
lished at Washington, made np principally 
of fugitives from Maryland and Virginia, 
thongh we found numerous representatives 
of the "patriarchal institution" from IS^orth 
and South Carolina, and Georgia. There 
were three thousand of them in camp at the time of 
our visit, but the number varied from week to week. 
Rev. D. B. IN'ichols, a former superintendent of the 
Chicago Reform School, was in charge of this motley 
company of escaped slaves, and although there was 
evidence of a lack of administrative talent, the poor 
refugees from bondage had certainly, for the time, a 
happy home in their miserable quarters. 

257 




258 A CONTEABAND CAMP. 

All ages, both sexes, every shade of complexion, 
and every vai'iety of character, were found here. I 
had lived on a Southern plantation for two years, in 
my early life, and the people and scenes were not as 
novel to me as to my companions. They were over- 
whelmed with astonishment at the intelligence, good 
sense, and decorum manifested by all. They had 
expected to see a gathering of half-humanized ba- 
boons or gorillas, and were not certain that they 
ought not take with them an interpreter. All with 
whom we conversed gave an intelligent and graphic 
account of their escape from slavery, and their 
descriptions of " massa " and " missus " revealed 
a clear insight into character. They admitted that 
they were not in as good condition now as they had 
been " at home," but they expected to have better 
days by and by, and to earn money, and to keep 
house, and to " live like white folks." J^ot one 
regretted their change of circumstances. 

"AVhy, missus," said a veiy intelligent mulatto 
woman, with considerable pretensions to beauty, who 
had come from Point Lookout, laying her right fore- 
finger in the broad palm of her left hand to give 
emphasis to her speech, " we'd ruther be jes' as po' 
as we can be, if we's only free, than ter b'long to 
anybody, an' hab all de money ole massa's got, or is 
eber gwine ter hab." 

Compared with white jDeople at the ^orth they 
were not industrious, but they compared favorably 
with the humbler classes of whites at the South, and 
were even ahead of them in intellect and industry. 
Every morning the men of the camp went into the 
city to get work for the day. So did the women 
who had not young children to care for. Few of 



A PEAYER-MEETIXG. 259 

them failed to find employment. Government em- 
ployed the men — and the women found chance jobs 
of house-cleaning, washing, etc., for which they 
asked and 'received moderate compensation. Many 
had thriven so well that they had commenced house- 
keeping by themselves, an event to which all were 
aspiring. The contraband camp at Washington was 
therefore very nearly a self-sustaining institution. 

Our first visit to the contrabands proved so inter- 
esting that we\ accepted an invitation from Mr. 
[Nichols to attend their evening prayer-meeting. 
The prayer-meetings were held every evening as 
soon as supper was ended, and were the great staple 
of their enjoyment. In them they found never-fail- 
mg satisfaction. They had all assembled when we 
arrived, but the advent of so large a company of 
white people had the effect to disband several minor 
meetings in the various huts, and to augment the 
larger one in Mr. ISTichols' quarters. Room was 
made for us by the dense crowd with great courtesy. 
The utmost decorum prevailed, seriousness sat on all 
faces, and a hush settled over the sable assembly. 
The oppressive stillness was broken by a comely 
mulatto woman, far advanced in years, who rose, 
and came towards me. 

" I 'clar to goodness," she said, in a subdued 
undertone, respectfully extending her hand, " you're 
Miss Lucy's and Miss Mary's and Massa Robert's 
teacher, down on de ole plantation ! I knowed yer 
de minit I seed yer a-comin' in, a-walkin' so straight 
and so tall! I allers knowed yer on de ole place, 
'clar way off" furder'n I could see yer face, cos yer 
allers walked so oncommon straight." 

It was "Aunt Aggy," the housekeeper on the 



260 "au:^t aggy." 

plantation where I had been governess in my early 
womanhood. She was the nurse of my pupils, and 
the foster-mother of two or three of them. A slave, 
she was entirely trusted, and was always respectful 
and obedient. N^ever garrulous, always grave and 
taciturn, she carried herself in those days with a rare 
dignity, and never became obsequious, as did the 
other house-servants. I instantly recalled a drama 
of those long gone years, in which she was both 
spectator and actor. 

Her daughter "Car'line" (Caroline), a pretty and 
graceful mulatto, was a servant in the dining-room. 
One morning when passing a cup of coffee to Mr. 
, her master and owner, by an unlucky move- 
ment of his hand he knocked it from the tray on 
which she served it, to his knees. It was warm 
weather; he was attired in linen, and the hot coffee 
scalded him. Jumping up with an oath, he raised 
his chair, and felled the girl to the floor, striking her 
two or three times after she had fallen. She was 
carried to the cottage of " Aunt Aggy," her mother, 
who had witnessed the scene from an adjoining room, 
— stunned, bruised, bleeding, and unconscious. I 
left the table and withdrew to my own apartment, 
shocked beyond expr.ession at the brutal outrage of 
the passionate master. 

Later in the day " Aunt Aggy " came to my room 
on some household errand, when I expressed my 
indignation at the brutal treatment her daughter had 
received, uttering myself with the frankness of a 
ISTew England girl of nineteen who had been trained 
to be true to her convictions. I was astonished at 
the change that came over the taciturn and dignified 
woman. Turning squarely about and facing me. 



"THAR's a DAT a-comin'!" 261 

with her large, lustrous eyes blazing with excitement, 
she spoke in a tone and manner that would have 
befitted a seer uttering a prophecy : — 

" Thar's a day a-comin' ! Thar's a day a-comin' ! " 
she said, with right hand uplifted; " I hear de rumblin' 
ob de chariots! I see de flashin' ob de guns! White 
folks' blood is a-runnin' on de ground like a riber, 
an' de dead's heaped up dat high! " measuring to the 
level of her shoulder. " Oh, Lor' ! hasten de day 
when de blows, an' de bruises, an' de aches, an' de 
pains, shall come to de white folks, an' de buzzards 
shall eat 'em as dey's dead in de streets. Oh, Lor'! 
roll on de chariots, an' gib de black people rest an' 
peace. Oh, Lor'! gib me de pleasure oblivin' till dat 
day, when I shall see white folks shot down like de 
wolves when dey come liongry out o' de woods! " 
And without another word she walked from the 
room, nor could I ever afterwards induce her to 
speak of the beating given Caroline. I reminded 
" Aunt Aggy " of the occurrence, at the close of the 
prayer-meeting, and found that it was photographed 
on her memory as distinctly as on mine. 

" I allers knowed it was a-comin'," she said. " I 
allers heerd de rumblin' o' de wheels. I allers 'spec- 
ted to see white folks heaped up dead. An' de Lor', 
He's keept His promise, an' 'venged His people, jes' 
as I knowed He would. I seed 'em dead on de field, 
Massa Linkum's sojers an' de Virginny sojers, all 
heaped togedder, wid de dead bosses, an' de smash-up 
waggins — all de fightin' done done for dis yer 
world foreber. Ole massa and missus bof done died 
afore de Avar, an' young Massa Robert, what you 
teached in de school-room, he done died in dese yer 
arms. Little Mass' Batt, what liked to say his prars 



262 A MIGHTY RUSH OF MELODY. 

in yer room, he went to de war, an' was shot in ole 
Car'lina, an' buried wid his sojers. Miss Lucy an'' 
little Courty bof done died when de war begin, an^ 
dey was buried in Liberty Hill. De ole place is all 
done broke up, an' de colored folks go jes' whar dey 
please — no passes now. Oh, de Lor' He do jes' 
right, if you only gib Him time enough to turn 
Hisself." 

The meeting commenced by the singing of a 
hymn. It was a song and chorus. The leader, a 
good singer, stood in the centre of the room, and 
sang alone the first two lines : — 

"I see de angels beck'nin' — I hear clem call me 'way, 
I see de golden city, an' de eberlastin' day ! " 

And then the whole congregation rose to their feet,, 
and with a mighty rush of melody, and an astonish- 
ing enthusiasm, joined in the inspiring chorus: — 

" Oh, I'm gwine home to glory — won't yer go along wid me, 
Whar de blessed angels beckon, an' de Lor' my Saviour be?" 

The leader was a good improvisatore as well as 
singer, and long after the stock of ready-made verses 
was exhausted, he went on and on, adding impromptu 
and rough rhymes, and the congregation came in, 
promptly and with ever-rising enthusiasm, with the 
oft-repeated chorus. All sang with closed eyes, 
thus shutting out all external impressions, and aban- 
doned themselves to the ecstasy of the hour. The 
leader gesticulated violently, swinging his arms 
around his head, uplifting his hands, and clasping 
them tightly and pointing into space ; while his com- 
panions swa3^ed slowly to and fro, beating time to 
the music with their feet. 

At last the swaying became wild and dizzy gyra- 



O 'O 



m 




SCEKE OP WILD EXCITEMENT. 265 

tions, which were interspersed with quick, convulsive 
leaps from the floor. Accompanying" all this was a 
general hand-shaking, in which we white people 
were included. One powerful Maryland woman 
nearly toppled me from the elevated and precarious 
seat which I had selected, the better to look down 
on the congregation, so fervent was her hand-clasp- 
ing. AH of us were glad when this exercise was 
ended, for our hands ached. 

After this followed a prayer, ^ever have I heard 
a prayer of more pathos and earnestness. It ap- 
pealed to God, as Infinite Justice, and with confi- 
dence that the wrongs of the slave would be re- 
dressed. 

"You know, O Lor' King," said the kneeling 
supplicant, " how many a time we've been hongry, 
and had nofifin to eat, — how we've worked all day 
and night m de cotton and 'bacca fields, and had no 
time to sleep and take care of our chillen, and how 
we've bin kep' out in de frost and de snow, and suf- 
fered many persecutions. But now, O King, you've 
brought us up hyar under de shadder o' de Linkum 
army, and we 'joend on Thee for de rest. We're 
gwine to wait for Thee, O King, to show us de 
way." With the utmost fervor he prayed for the 
Union army — that " the Lor' would smother its 
enemies," — and for " Massa Linkum, who was doing 
de good Lor's will." And to both these petitions 
the whole audience added a tempest of supplicatory 
responses. Finally, after specifying every distressed 
class of which they had any knowledge, they begged 
the Lord to " pardon the damned out o' hell, if so be 
de good Lor' could do it." 

During this prayer a dozen of half-grown mulatto 



266 "bkess my poor jim!" 

boys had entered the rear of the room, who were not 
imbued with the seriousness of the great congrega- 
tion. After a few moments they became uneasy, 
and began to froUc. Once or twice one of the num- 
ber made some comment to his companions, in an 
audible tone of voice, and several times they bi-oke 
down in a suppressed giggle. They were remem- 
bered by a venerable negro who prayed next, in this 
ingenuous fashion: — 

" O Lor', bress us all poor sinners. Bress dese 
yer boys, O Lor'; dey'se got so many blessin's, dey 
dunno what to do wid 'em ; dey'se like de hogs under 
de 'simmons trees, eating 'simmons, — dey dunno whar 
dey come from. O Lor', bress us all poor sinners, an' 
bress my poor Jim," — who now laughed outright — 
"'case he's a berry bad boy. Lor'; he's a badder 
bo}^ dan you knoAV for; he swars; he swars more 
dan you know about; he swars more in de tent dan 
he does outdoors, ^ow. Lor', bress us all, an' stan' 
by me, an' I'll stan' by you, sartin." 

A prolonged exhortation followed this prayer. It 
was mainly devoted to the case of one of their 
number who had died two nights before, who was a 
notorious thief, and who, the speaker unhesitatingly 
declared, "was in hell." "An' now, chillen, whar 
you 'spect uncle Jim done gone? Wednesday night, 
chillen, at half past ten o'clock," — the hour at which 
the man died, — " uncle Jim done gone to hell. 'Now 
he roll about on de red-hot sheet-iron floor thar, an' 
he dim' up de red-hot walls, an' fall back agin " — 
and so on. I confess I felt quite reconciled to uncle 
Jim's unpleasant predicament, in consideration of 
their prayer that God would pardon the damned. 
Other scenes, speeches, and prayers followed, but 



MORE PIOUS THAX MORAL. 267 

one was a sample of all. The meeting was of the 
liveliest character throughout. They were not only 
hearers, but in a very emphatic sense they were also 
doers, and with their gesticulations, beating of feet, 
shaking of hands, and unintermitted responses, they 
made busy and hard work of their prayer-meetings. 

They were mostly Baptists, and were intensely 
sectarian. One Methodist brother ventured to start 
a hymn, but he had it all to himself. The Baptists 
sat still with folded hands and closed eyes, grim a& 
sphinxes, and let him sing it through alone, without 
the aid of a single helping voice. 

Mr. Kichols informed us that while the piety of 
these people was of the most orthodox character, 
their morality was not so satisfactory. The vices of 
slavery very naturally clung to them, and they were 
not truth-telling nor honest. All knew that the 
President had issued a Proclamation of Emancipa- 
tion, and they expected to be free before the end of 
the war. When they sang their celebrated song,^ 
until then always sung stealthily and in secrecy, be- 
ginning, 

" Go tell Moses, go down into Egypt, 
An' tell King Pharaoh, let my people go," 

the leader improvised verses at the close suited tO' 
their circumstances, and the congregation changed 
the chorus, shouting with excitement, and gesticulat- 
ing in a way that would have been terrific had they 
been less jubilant, " He will let my people go I " 

Our return route to Chicago was by way of Phila- 
delphia, ?.s we wished to visit the Branch Commis- 
sions in Philadelphia and ISTew York. "Walking up 
Chestnut Street, I met a cheery-faced lad, wearing* 
the blue uniform of the army, who had lost a leg. 



268 " 'taint so bad as it might be ! " 

and was swinging along painfully on a crutch. I 
could not do otherwise than speak to him. 

" My child, you have been very unfortunate." 

" Yes, ma'am," he replied, as cheerfully as though 
I had simply remarked, " It is a pleasant day." 

"Do you belong to the army?" 

" Yes, ma'am — I am a drummer." 

"Did you lose your leg in battle?" 

"Yes, ma'am; I suppose it was partly my fault, 
though. I was told not to go down where the fight 
was, for I was not needed. But I wanted to see the 
fun, and went; and a piece of shell splintered my 
ankle so that I had to have my foot taken oif." 

"My poor boy! I am very sorry for you, and now 
you must be a cripple for life." 

" Oh, well, 'taint so bad as it might be. I'm 
going to have an artificial leg, some time. I might 
have one now, but I should outgrow it in a year; 
and, as they cost fifty dollars, a fellow can't aflbrd to 
have a new leg every spring, like he does a pair of 
trousers. But when I get grown I shall have one, 
and then I can go it as well as ever." 

Blessings on the cheery-faced thirteen-year-old 
philosopher! In his sunny nature and hopeful spirit 
he had a greater fortune than the wealth of Yander- 
bilt would give him if he lacked these qualities. 

I was compelled to visit Washington for the last 
time during the war, in 1865, about a month before 
Lee's army surrendered to General Grant at Appo- 
mattox. My visit then was in the intereot of the 
last sanitary fair of the country. Washington was 
full, and running over. Congress was just at the 
close of the term, overcrowded with work, and hold- 



WASHINGTON IMPROVED. 269 

ing sessions day and night to finish up the necessary 
business of the country. People were in the city, 
representing every taxable interest, entreating im- 
munity from taxation for their particular in- 
dustry, seeking appointments for themselves or 
friends, endeavoring to get real or fancied wrongs 
righted, eager to go to the front, — from curiosity 
or to aid sick and wounded friends, or awaiting 
the ceremonies of the approaching inauguration of 
President Lincoln for a second term, which promised 
to be more than ordinarily brilliant. 

The city had changed during the war. More 
money had been spent on its streets during the 
four years of the war than in all its previous his- 
tory. Horse-cars ran in every direction, the city 
was well lighted, and the sidewalks and crossings 
were in good condition. The city had taken on a 
business look, and its old dulness had disappeared. 
But it was even then what it had always been — one 
of the most unlovely cities of the Union. Ragged 
and straggling, with the oddest jumble of amazing 
houses on its sjoacious streets, whose depths of mud 
were immeasurable, the magnificent public buildings 
only emphasized the general meanness of the city, 
making it painful to behold. 

The sights of war were not as numerous as in 
1862. Then, all day and all night one heard the 
unceasing rumble of army wagons. Kegiments were 
constantly passing through the city. Everywhere 
one caught the gleam of the bayonet, and heard the 
roll of the drum. Two great hostile armies were 
then encamped but a short distance from Washing- 
ton, and one's spirits rose and fell with the rumors 
that hourly disturbed the j^ublic mind. 



270 WHOLESALE DESERTION OF THE ENEMY. 

Kow, one realized that the theatre of war was 
remote ; and in the prophetic soul of every one dwelt 
the unshaken conviction that the end was near. The 
only unusual sight in the mihtary line was the daily 
processions of deserters from the eneni}^, constantly 
arriving within the lines of our army. General 
Grant had promised, by proclamation, to buy of the 
deserters the teams and munitions of war they 
brought with them, and they came loaded, hundreds 
every night, squalid, ragged, dirty, and miserable. 
Two or three times a day I met them, under the 
escort of our soldiers, unkempt, almost barefooted, 
and generally bareheaded, as brown as berries, but 
jubilant, and often hilarious. 

Whole picket lines deserted ; and the rebel guards, 
who witnessed the transaction, and who remained 
behind because they had families in the Confederacy, 
refrained from firing on the deserters, or fired high, 
so as not to hit them. General Lee's army was melt- 
ing away like snow in the s^^ring sun ; and to him 
every deserter was an irreparable loss, for he could 
not be replaced. Most of the men were unmarried, 
and some had families in the North. In conversation 
with them, they informed me that the married men 
deserted to their homes in the South, and fn four 
times the numbers of the single men who escaped to 
the :N"orth. 

One day, a negro, who was believed trustworthy, 
Avas sent out of the enemy's lines with a six-mule 
team for a big load of wood. He had got beyond the 
pickets, and seemed to think it worth while to ven- 
ture a little fiirther, and so kept on towards ''Uncle 
Sam's boys." The rebel pickets saw him going, and 
rushed after him. Our men saw him coming, and 



LIBEKTT AND A GOOD STAKT. 271 

rushed towards him. The ebony teamster whipped 
up his mules, shouted, hurrahed, and urged them on. 
Guns were fired on both sides, and the yelUng and 
excitement were tremendous for a few minutes. But 
the negro gained the day, and ran out of slavery into 
freedom. lie was taken to the quartermaster, who 
gave him several hundred dollars for his team, so he 
not only got his liberty but a good start. He was 
sent up to Washington, at his desire; for his wife 
had worked her way to the city, and he wished to 
seek her. His story found its way into the papers, 
and for a brief day he was a small hero. 

" Golly, missus ! " was his comment, when I ex- 
pressed my surprise that he had not been killed in 
the attempt to escape, " I was dat s'prised when I 
foun' myself alive and free in Massa Linkum's army, 
wid all dat money for my own, dat I couldn't b'lieve 
it. I was dat weak I couldn't stan' no more'n a 
broken-winded mule can run. It's a heap sight bet- 
ter up hyar, dan down on de ole place, and I 'spect me 
and de ole woman'll stay hyar when I'se found her." 

Of my interview with President Lincoln, and its 
result, I have given an account elsewhere. I was 
commissioned to borrow the captured rebel flags, the 
battle-flags in the possession of the government, and 
the government bunting, for the use of the last great 
fair of the Sanitary Commission. For this purpose 
I went to the Secretary of War. I must confess that 
I never approached a human being more reluctantly 
than I did Secretary Stanton. I had heard fearful 
accounts of his porcine manners, discourtesy, and 
vulgar hauteur; and I dreaded to meet him. I did 
not then know that these charges were brought 
against him by cotton speculators, Southern traders 

17 



272 VISIT TO SECRETARY STAIN'TON'. 

in goods contraband of war, and other harpies, who 
had sought to prey on the government, and whose 
rapacious schemes he had thwarted. 

A great crowd was in attendance, each waiting his 
turn, one standing behind the other in a long Hne 
that stretched far out into the hall. A hush like that 
of death pervaded the apartment. Each one in turn 
stepped forward to the Secretary, who stood to re- 
ceive the applicants, and in a low tone proffered his 
request, or j^resented his papers. In the same sub- 
dued tone Mr. Stanton gave his advice or decision, 
and the interview ended. 

My turn would not have come for two or three 
hours, and I had not the time to spare; so I sent by a 
page a brief letter of introduction given me by Mrs. 
Lyman C. Trumbull, long since deceased, one of the 
noblest women of the land, for whom Secretary 
Stanton had a great regard. It Avorked like the 
" open sesame " of the fairy tale. The page con- 
ducted me to the Secretary immediately, who greeted 
me very pleasantly, holding in his hand the oj^en 
letter of our mutual friend. " Mrs. Trumbull sends 
no one to me on a trivial or doubtful errand ! " was 
his only comment; and then he stood in an attitude 
of attention. There was no waste of words on either 
side. What I asked was granted, an order for the 
flags was written on the spot by the Secretary, who 
informed me how to obtain the bunting. 

Finding this so easily accomplished, I grew bolder, 
and asked other favors of the same sort, and for the 
same use; and they were promised in black and 
white. At last, I invited the Secretary to honor our 
Chicago fair with his presence, as President and 
Mrs. Lincoln had promised to do, on the day of 



ADMIRAL FARRAGUT. 273 

opening ; and this he declined. " Your efforts, 
madam, are in the direction of mitigating* the 
horrors of war. Mine are in the direction of 
finishing the war; and till that is accomplished, 
here is my place." I left the War Office with a 
very different impression of the Secretary from that 
with which I entered. Excepting President Lincoln, 
he was, by common consent, the hardest-working 
man of the administration. He had a grand head 
and a good face. He was fearfully industrious, 
laconic, and stern, when opposed to the enemies of 
the government, at home or abroad; but everywhere 
in Washington, among loyal people, he was known to 
be just, courteous, honest, and humane. 

I accidentally fell in with Admiral and Mrs. Far- 
ragut on this occasion, whom it was a pleasure to 
meet — they were so simple and unaffected. The 
admiral was the most genial, social, simple-hearted, 
and jolly sailor imaginable. He seemed utterly ob- 
livious to the fact that he was a great man; and I 
doubt if he ever comprehended that his deeds of 
loyalty and heroism were unusual. When I made 
some allusion to his being lashed to the mast while 
fighting the battle of l^ew Orleans, he burst out in 
amazement : " I want to know if you have heard of 
that out in Chicago ! That wasn't much of an affair, 
although the papers have made a great ado over it." 

The admiral w^as living in I^orfolk, Va., when that 
state seceded. He fought against secession with 
entreaty and argument; but it availed nothing, and 
he was notified by the authorities that he must leave 
ISTorfolk with his family in two hours. " I tell you," 
said the admiral, " we packed our ti^unks in a hurry, 
and brought off lots of j^lunder. There were four of 



274 DARIKG DEED OF LIEUTENANT GUSHING. 

US, and we packed sixteen large trunks among us, 
containing most of our valuables." In the course of 
the Avar he captured many of his old friends and 
neighbors. " They met me rather stiffly," said the 
admiral ; " not a bit like they used to." Fond of 
the naval life he led, and proud of his profession, 
he liked to boast that " since his twentieth birth- 
day, he had not been inland sixty miles from the 
ocean." 

Lieutenant W. B. Gushing was another of the 
heroes whom I met in Washington. The whole 
country was at that time ringing with his praises, 
for he had performed one of the most daring and 
gallant deeds of the war, for which the Secretary of 
the II^Tavy had thanked him, in a most complimentary 
letter. The rebel ram Albemarle had attacked the 
Union fleet, and destroyed some of our vessels. 
Lieutenant Gushing was charged with the perilous 
duty of destroying the ram. Gonstructing a torpedo 
boat, and selecting his officers and crew, thirteen in 
all, not one of whom expected to return alive, he 
set out on the expedition. 

The Albemarle lay near the mouth of the Roan- 
oke, defended by a stoutly built enclosure of logs, 
the banks of the river lined all the way with pickets. 
But with incredible daring the young lieutenant 
drove the torpedo under the ram, and exploded it, 
and the dreaded Albemarle sank at her moorings. 
Only one of the company besides Lieutenant Gushing 
returned from this exploit. The rest were never 
heard from, but were killed, captured, or drowned. 
'No one would have imagined the boyish, rosy- 
cheeked lieutenant to be a hero. He was painfully 
modest, and any eulogistic allusion to his services 



OTHER NOTABLE PEOPLE. 275 

dyed his face with crimson blushes to the roots of his 
hair. 

There were other notable men and women to be 
seen in Washington at that time, some of whom will 
always be remembered by the country — General 
Hooker, the hero of Lookout Mountain, " the battle 
fought above the clouds," and who, despite the wear 
and tear of military life, was still one of the hand- 
somest men of the day; Chief- Justice Chase, whose 
Jove-like head and kingly port made him the ob- 
served of all observers; Mrs. Stephen A. Douglas, 
who, it was said, had been more toasted and feted 
than any other woman in America, because of her 
personal beauty; Mrs. General TV". T. Sherman, 
w^ho was intent on seeking attractions for the Cath- 
olic department of the forthcoming Sanitary Fair, of 
which she had been chosen superintendent; Cap- 
tain Winslow, the brave commander of the Kearsarge, 
that crippled, and compelled the surrender of the 
Confederate Alabama, " which had made the ocean 
lurid with the flames of our burning merchantmen." 
There was no lack of eminent personages for the 
pursuit of the lion-hunter. But the nation was in 
no mood for lionizing its celebrities. It was watch- 
ing the closing scenes of the mighty drama, now 
being played before Kichmond. It was waiting in 
hushed expectancy for the news of the great sur- 
render, which would bring an end of war, and re- 
store peace to the weary people. In less than twenty 
days it came — and the lightning flashed the glad 
tidings to the farthest verge of the civilized world. 

Just as I was leaving Washington, I received a 
telegram asking me to stop in Indianapolis to in- 
quire the fate of a drummer boy, belonging to the 



276 A FAMOUS DRUMMER BOY. 

Eighth Michigan, whose family hved in my neighbor- 
hood. CharUe Gardner was a schoolboy, thirteen 
and a half years old, in the town of Flint, Mich., 
when the war began. Under the first call for sev- 
enty-five thousand troops, his father, who was con- 
nected with a military organization of long standing, 
left for the defence of the national capital. Soon 
there came a second call, for three hundred thousand 
more, when Charlie's teacher, an exemplary young 
man, resigned his j^osition and entered the army. 
Between this teacher and the boy there existed a 
very ardent attachment, and Captain Guild seconded 
Charlie's earnest entreaties that he might go with 
him as a drummer. He had been famous from baby- 
hood for his musical gifts, and had acquired a good 
deal of local notoriety for his skilful handling of the 
drumsticks. 

" If I can go to the war with my drum, and take 
the place of a man who can carry a musket," was 
Charlie's persistent plea, " I think it my duty to go, 
especially as you, mother, do not greatly need me at 
home." At last, reluctantly, the poor mother, who 
had surrendered her husband, gave up her son, and 
he was mustered into the Eighth Michigan, with his 
teacher. 

The regiment was ordered to Port Royal, and on 
their way thither Charlie met his father in Washing- 
ton. As they were returning from the !N^avy Yard, 
where they had been to receive their arms, he saw 
his father at a distance, and, forgetful of military 
rule, he broke from the ranks, and ran with childish 
joy into his arms. It was their last meeting, as Mr. 
Gardner died the following ]^ovember, at Alexan- 
dria, of typhoid fever. Charlie's letters to his 



"you have me left, mother!" 277 



mother, after this bereavement, were remarkably 
thoughtful for a boy of fourteen. " I am nearly 
broken-hearted," he writes. " I try to be cheerful, 
but it is of no use, for my mind continually runs 
towards home, and a fresh gush of tears comes to 
my eyes, and I have to weep. But, my dear mother, 
if this is so hard for me, what must it be for you? 
Do not take it too much to heart, for remember that 
you have me left, and I will do my best to help 
you. I shall send you all my money hereafter, for I 
really do not need money here." This promise he 
fulfilled to the letter. 

By and by we heard of the fearless little fellow, 
small beyond his years, on the battle-field with the 
surgeon, where the grape and canister were crashing 
ai'ound him, j^ressing forward to the front during an 
engagement, with the hospital flag in his hand, to 
aid in the care of the wounded. A peremptory 
order from his superior oflScer sent him to the rear. 
When the wounded were brought in, he worked 
all night and the next day carrying water and 
bandages, and lighting up the sorrowfulness of the 
hour by his boyish but never-failing kindness. 
IN^ever was the lad more serviceable than during 
a battle. 

At the terrible battle of James Island, in an 
assault on the fort, his beloved captain, always 
foremost in a fight, had climbed the parapet, when 
a shot struck him, he fell backwards, and was seen 
no more, l^ow was Charlie indeed bereaved. His 
teacher, captain, friend, father, lover, dead on the 
battle-field, and the poor satisfaction denied him of 
burying his remains. His letters after this were one 
long wail of sorrow. He could not be comforted — 



278 FIERCE LIFE OF THE EIGHTH MICHIGAN". 

and yet, always thoughtful for others, he wrote, 
"Oh, how I pity Guild's poor mother!" 

Months passed, and the Eighth Michigan was 
ordered to Yicksburg to re-enforce Grant, who had 
beleaguered that doomed city. Battle after battle 
followed — nineteen of them — m all of which Charlie 
participated, often escaping death as by a miracle. 
Something of the fierce life led by this regiment may 
be inferred from the fact that of fifteen hundred and 
sixty-three men whose names were on its muster- 
rolls, less than four hundred survived at the close 
of the war. On marches, on reconnoissances, and 
throughout campaigns, Charlie kept with the regi- 
ment. They crossed the mountains to Knoxville, 
Tenn., in General Burnside's corps, when they were 
compelled to subsist on three ears of corn a day. 
For weeks they were shut up in that city, besieged 
by Longstreet's forces, where they were put on quar- 
ter rations. Yet not one word of complaint ever 
came from the patient lad, — not one word of regret, 
only an earnest desire to remain in the service until 
the end of the war. 

At last there came a letter from the surgeon. 
During the siege of Knoxville Charlie had been 
wounded for the first time. A chance shot entered 
the window of the house in which he was sitting, 
struck him on the shoulder, and, glancing, entered 
the left lung. " He lias been in a very dangerous 
condition," wrote the surgeon ; " but he is now fast 
recovering. He is a universal pet, and is well cared 
for in the ofiicers' quarters." The next news was 
even more comforting. The regiment was on its 
way to Detroit on a thirty days' furlough, would re- 
cruit, return, and remain until the end of the war. 



"CHARLIE DIED IN INDIANAPOLIS." 279 

IsTow, a telegram announced that the regiment was 
in Louisville, then in Indianapolis, in Michigan City, 
at last in Detroit. 

With a happy heart, the glad mother telegraphed 
her boy to come to her in Chicago, whither she had 
removed on her husband's death. Then she watched 
the arrival of the trains. " He will be here to- 
night ! He will be here to-morrow ! " she said ; and 
answered every summons of the door-bell herself, 
exj^ecting to greet her boy. Everything was in 
readiness for the lad — his room, his clothes, the 
supper-table spread with the delicacies he loved. 
Mother, sister, brother, all were waiting him. 

A ring at the door. All start, all rush; now it 
is surely Charlie. 'No ; only a telegram : " The regi- 
Tnent has ai'rived in Detroit j hut Charlie died in 
Indianapolis.''^ God help the poor mother ! 

I obeyed the direction sent me to Washington, and 
went to Indianapolis in search of the lad's dead body. 
He had not been in that city. I went to Louisville, 
and consulted the hospital directory of the Sanitary 
Commission. He had died in Louisville, from hem- 
orrhage of the lungs, occasioned by the chance shot 
which penetrated them. The lifeless corpse was ex- 
humed from the soldiers' burying-ground, and for- 
warded to the mother. Ah, the war of the rebellion 
cost us dearly! 



CHAPTEE XII. 

A TRIP DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI — AMONG THE SICK AND 
DYING — OUR MISSION AND STORES — LOVING MESSAGES 
FROM HOME — A BRIDE'S SONG FOR A DYING SOLDIER. 

The Army encamped at Young's Point — They cut the Levees — Great 
Sickness results — Special Relief Corps sent down — Mrs. Colt, of Mil- 
waukee, and myself attached to the Corps — Our Programme — Outfit — 
Some of the Messages entrusted me — Oiir wheezy Boat — Disloyal Offi- 
cers — Musical Talent on Board — Singing in the Hospitals — Touching 
Episode — Scene in a Memphis Hospital — " Mother, don't you know 
yom-Boy ? " — Our Headquarters in Memphis, at Gayoso House — Women 
Secessionists — To be sent within Confederate Lines — A stormy Inter- 
view — " Allows me to be at large ! " — We embark on the Tigress for the 
lower Mississippi — A dreary Journey. 

'HE grand passion of the West dnring the 
first half of the war was to re-open the 
Mississippi, which had been closed by the 
enemy. This great water highway had 
been Avrested from the possession of the rebels 
as far south as Vicksburg, which frowned down 
from its unique eyrie, bristling with batteries, and 
hiu'ling shot and shell at our brave men encamped 
at Young's Point, opposite. It seemed, from its 
position, to be thundering forth the mandate, " Hith- 
erto shalt thou come, but no farther." 

General Sherman's attempt to take the fortifica- 
tions and batteries which defended Yicksburg on the 

280 




CUTTING THE LEVEES. 281 

north had failed, and, after a triumphant and con- 
quering expedition up the White River into Arkan- 
sas, the whole lYestern army had been moved down 
the Mississippi in transports. At that time the men 
were living in boats, or were vainly seeking dry land 
for their encampments, amid the swamps, lagoons, 
bayous, and sloughs of the abominable portion of 
that country, known as the " river-bottoms." The 
levees of the river had been cut in many places, as a 
" military necessity," or from sheer wantonness on 
the part of the " boys," who gloried in any mischief 
that brought trouble to the " secesh." 

But cutting the levees in this case proved a two- 
edged sword, not only injuring the enemy but 
drowning out our own men. Those who could, took 
to the crowded river-boats. The rest remained in 
their wet encampments in the pestilential swamps 
and bottom lands, drenched with the protracted 
spring rains, almost buried in the unfathomable mud, 
and drinking death from the crystal waters of the 
Yazoo. Soon sickness and suffering stalked in 
among them. The death which they had escaped on 
Southern battle-fields sprang upon them here like a 
tiger from the jungle. Twelve thousand men lay 
sick at one time — about thirty-three and one-third 
per cent of the army at that point — and the wail of 
agony from the sick and dying was borne to the 
listening ears of the tender-hearted I^orthwest. 
Quick to hear, it was swift to relieve. Surgeons and 
physicians Avho had acquired a national reputation 
for skill in their profession, were despatched to the 
scene of suffering, to battle with the miasmatic foe 
which was conquering the conquerors. 

Immense shipments of supplies were sent down on 



282 QUICK RELIEF SENT EROM THE NORTH. 

the sanitary boats, with men and women of execu- 
tive ability, who attended to their safe transmission 
and equitable distribution. Accompanying these 
were special corps of relief accustomed to the work 
in hospitals, and possessed of physical endurance, 
able to encounter any horror of army life without 
blenching. 

It was with one of these shipments of sanitary 
stores, and as one of the relief corps, that I went 
down the Mississippi in March, 1863. Quartermas- 
ters, State Surgeon-Generals, members of the Legis- 
lature, representatives of the Chicago Chamber of 
Commerce, a company of nurses whom I was to 
locate in hospitals, and some two or three women 
who had been active in Avorking for our invalid sol- 
diers from the very first, made up the delegation. 
Two of us only — Mrs. Colt, of Milwaukee, and my- 
self — were connected with the Sanitary Commission. 
Mrs. Colt was the executive woman at the head of 
the sanitary work in Wisconsin, whose enthusiasm 
infected the whole state with patriotism and gener- 
osity. The sanitary supplies, about thirty-five hun- 
dred boxes and packages in all, were sent by the 
Connnission and Chicago Board of Trade. 

The programme marked out for us was this. We 
were to visit every hospital from Cairo to Young's 
Point, opposite Vicksbui'g; relieve such needs as 
were pressing; make ourselves useful in any way 
among the sick and wounded, co-operating harmoni- 
ously as far as possible with medical and military 
authorities. From every point we were to report 
our movements, the result of our observations, what 
we had accomplished, and what we found needing 
attention, employing the Chicago Press and the bul- 



OUR OUTFIT AND STORES. 283 

letins of the Sanitary Commission as our mediums of 
communication. 

Our assortment of stores comprised almost every- 
thing necessary in hospital relief; potatoes, onions, 
sauer-kraut, and vegetables — chiefly for the scorbu- 
tic patients, who constituted a majority of the sick 
— farina, corn starch, lemons, oranges, pearl-barley, 
tea, sugar, condensed milk, ale, canned fruits, con- 
densed extract of beef, codfish, jellies, a small 
quantity of the best of brandy, with hospital shirts, 
drawers, sheets, socks, slippers, bandages, lint, rub- 
ber rings, and whatever else might be needed for 
wounded and sick men. We also took down about 
five hundred " private boxes," forwarded by private 
parties for particular companies, or squads, or indi- 
viduals, and committed to our care for safe transmis- 
sion and delivery. My own personal outfit consisted 
of a long pair of rubber boots, reaching to the 
knee, a teapot, a spirit-lamp to boil it, with a large 
quantity of Japan tea, condensed milk, sugar and 
crackers. 

Through the daily papers, we volunteered to take 
letters, messages, or small packages, to parties on our 
route connected with the army, and to deliver them 
whenever it was possible. For a week before we 
started, my time was consumed by people who came 
to the rooms of the Sanitary Commission on these 
errands. I made memoranda of the verbal messages 
and inquiries, which were many and mostly from the 
poor and humble. My memorandum book lies before 
me. Here are samples of these messages : — 

"Mercantile Battery, Milliken's Bend, George 

W . His mother called. She is well; is not 

worrying about her son; has gained thirteen pounds 



284 "stand it like a mai^!" 

since the cold weather. Am to make particular in- 
quiries about her son's habits; does he drink, swear, 
or smoke? Tell him his mother would rather he 
would be sent home dead, than that he should return 
alive and dissipated." 

" Young's Point, One Hundred and Thirteenth 

Illinois, Peter R . "Wife called. She and the 

six children are well ; gets plenty of work, good pay, 
and the county allowance of three dollars weekly. 
He is not to worry about them at all — at all. Must 
never think of deserting. Stand it like a man! All 
the family pray daily to the Virgin for him." 

"Lake Providence, Eighteenth Wisconsin, John 

K . Father and mother called. Brought four 

letters for him. Tell him to take care of his health, 
avoid liquor, never he tempted to desert. Brother 
William, in Second Wisconsin, has got well of his 
wound, and gone back to the Army of the Potomac." 

" Try to learn something concerning Herbert 

B , of Fifteenth Wisconsin. Has not been heard 

from since battle of Stone River." (He was never 
heard from until the lists of the Andersonville dead 
were published.) 

" Try to get permission for James R to go to 

Helena for his brother's dead body, and take it to 
Chicago." 

" Try to get discharge for Richard R , dying 

in Overton Hospital, Memphis, of consumption, and 
bring him home to his parents." 

Scores of pages were filled with similar memo- 
randa. 

Our stores, with ourselves, were passed over the 
Elinois Central Railroad to Cairo, where we found 
sanitary goods, — mostly for the relief of scorbutic 



THE RIVER BOATS AKD THEIR OFFICERS. 285 

and fever patients, — pouring into the town from 
every point, all clamoring for immediate shipment. 
Government had impressed all the boats on the 
river into its service, and, as there were no troops 
to be hurried forward, these generous consignments 
were transhipped as rapidly as possible from the cars 
to the boats. The boat to which we were assigned 
was a little, rickety, wheezy, crowded, unsafe craft, 
which poked along down the river at about one-half 
the usual rate of speed. It towed along three or four 
barges of hay, which kept us in constant alarm, as 
they easily took fire from the sparks of the chimney. 

One got loose and drifted away, nobody knew 
where, and nobody seemed to care, since it belonged 
to " Uncle Sam." We had no doubt it was purposely 
detached in the night, at a point agreed upon before- 
hand, where it could easily be secured by the rebels. 
The ofiicers, like those of almost all the boats at that 
time, were secretly in sympathy with the rebellion; 
though, for the sake of the "greenbacks" of the 
government, they made a show of loyalty to it. They 
bore themselves very cavalierly towards us, treating 
us with scant politeness when they noticed us at all, 
and ignoring us altogether when it was possible to 
do so. 

Several army officers were on board, who had been 
home on furloughs. Some of them were accompanied 
by their wives, who were going as far as Memphis, 
beyond which point no civilian could pass without 
special permission. The colonel of the Twelfth 
Michigan was accompanied by his bride, a beautiful 
young woman and an exquisite vocalist, whose voice 
had been carefully cultivated. There were also in 
the company flutists and violinists, and half a (Jozen 



286 "CAN YOU SING FOR A DYING MAN?" 

members of a brass band attached to one of the 
regiments stationed down the river. The boat was 
ringing with patriotic music all the time. Wherever 
there were military posts or hospitals, the boat stopped 
for hours. As we steamed to the landings, all our 
musical force mustered on deck, and announced our 
arrival by a grand chorus of voices and instruments. 
They rendered " The Red, White, and Blue," " The 
Star-Spangled Banner," " Rally round the Flag, 
Boys ! " and other national songs, in a ringing fash- 
ion, that brought every soldier from his tent, flying 
down the bluffs to welcome us. The vocalists always 
accompanied us to the hospitals, and made the tour 
of the wards with us, singing charmingly while they 
remained. It was a great delight to them to observe 
how the inspiring music brightened the weary, suffer- 
ing men. Without any solicitation, they filled every 
moment of their stay with the cheeriest songs and 
most patriotic airs. 

One poor lad, dying of consumption, too far gone 
to be sent to his home in Iowa, fixed his large, lumi- 
nous eyes on the fair girl bride, whose voice was like 
that of an angel, and asked, " Can you sing some- 
thing for a dying man? " 

It was her first acquaintance with hospitals, her 
first contact with sickness and death. But without 
hesitation she moved to his bedside, seated herself on 
a campstool beside him, and, taking one of his thin 
hands in hers, sang, with great feeling, " ]N^earer, my 
God, to Thee." There was sobbing in the ward when 
she ended; but the boy to whom she sang only gazed 
at her with eyes of beseeching. " Can you sing 
'The Sweet By and By?'" he inquired. That was 
given, with the chorus, in w^iich all joined. And then, 



MEN WEPT ALOUD. 287 

unasked, her tender, sympathetic voice floated again 
through the long ward, in the exquisite melody of 
"Sweet Home." Kever have I heard it so feelingly 
rendered. 

The scene that followed was alarming. Men 
buried their faces in the pillows, and wept aloud; and 
others, who were sitting up, in partial convalescence, 
threw themselves on the bed, face downward, in ex- 
cess of emotion. This would not do. To change 
the current of feeling, I called for the stirring song, 
" Rally round the Flag, Boys ! " which was given with 
a will. Then "America" rang out on the air; and, 
as the whistle of the boat was calling us to return, 
the choir took leave of the hospital, singing as they 
went, — 

" There's a good time coming, boys, 
Wait a little longer ! " 

This visit to the hospital greatly affected our beau- 
tiful bride. She was to be separated from her hus- 
band at Memphis — he to go to his command, and 
ehe to return to her home in Detroit. She entreated 
her husband with tears to allow her to enter the 
hospitals as a nurse. " You are going to the front 
to serve your country, — let me be detailed to the 
hospitals in the same good cause." She was so thor- 
oughly in earnest, and swept away his remonstrances 
with such passionate entreaty, that I went to his help 
with the assurance that her youth forbade her serv- 
ing in the hospitals. I might have added, her beauty 
also — for Miss Dix detailed only those lacking 
personal attractions. 

We distributed our sanitary stores with a lavish 
hand, wherever they were needed. Where women 
were acting as matrons in the hospitals, we committed 

18 



288 "no, that's not my boy." 

our benefactions to their care. Where were sus- 
picious looking stewards, or intemperate surgeons, 
we were less bountiful in our bestowments, and 
lingered to disburse our supplies to individual cases, 
as far as we could. At Memphis, there were eleven 
hospitals, containing nearly eight thousand patients, 
and this number was daily re-enforced by boatloads 
of sick men, sent up from points below. I went on 
board one of these newly arrived transports, and 
was appalled at the condition of the men. !N^ot one 
in twenty could have been recognized by his kindred 
or friends, so disguised were the poor fellows by 
mud, squalor, vermin, rags, and the wasting sick- 
ness of scurvy and swamp fever. 

I went with a woman, from central Illinois, to 
search for her son. We were informed that he had 
been taken to Jackson Hospital, and the record book 
of the clerk showed him to be in bed ^o. 15, ward C. 
We went to the bed indicated, but there lay an 
emaciated man of sixty or seventy apparently, sleep- 
ing. We did not wake him, but returned to the 
clerk of the hospital and assured him there was a 
mistake. The young man for whom we were looking 
was not there. He was sure his entry book* was 
correct, and we returned for another examination. 
The mother gazed long and searchingly at the sleep- 
ing man in ward C, and then said : — 

" 'No, that's not my boy. My son is but twenty- 
two." 

Directly the sleeper opened his eyes, and stared 
vacantly at both of us. 

" ]N^o," she repeated, " no, he is not my boy." 

" Oh, mother ! " cried the man, in sick, weak, 
quavering tones, quickly recognizing the dearly 



"mother, I AM YOUR boy!" 289 

beloved face, and slowly uplifting his long bony 
arms toward her, " I am your boy ! Don't you know 
your Willie?" 

I went through every ward of every hospital in 
Memphis, and visited every patient, as I had prom- 
ised when leaving Chicago. The most home-like 
and the best kept of them all was the " Gayoso," 
of which the well-known " Mother Bickerdyke " was 
matron, and which was called everywhere in Mem- 
phis, " Mother Bickerdyke's Hospital." I remember 
the names of many of the surgeons in charge of the 
other hospitals. But of "Mother Bickerdyke's" I 
only remember that she was matron, that " Handy- 
Andy," a detailed soldier, was her " right-hand man," 
working with her, and carrying out all her plans a,nd 
purposes, as if there were but one mind and soul be- 
tween them. I also remember that she had scores of 
" contrabands " detailed to her service. Who were 
her surgeons and stewards I never knew. They 
were really overshadowed by the matron. 

There were nine hundred patients in the hospital. 
And, in addition to the work imposed on her by this 
immense charge, almost the entire laundry work of 
the hospitals in Memphis had drifted into her hands, 
and was being done by contrabands under her super- 
vision. She was also virtually, though not nominally, 
matron of the " Small-pox Hospital " at Fort Picker- 
ing, two miles down the river, below Memphis. Once 
a week she went there, with her faithful " Andy," in 
an ambulance, ready to arouse a moral earthquake, 
or let loose a small tornado of wrath, if she discov- 
ered any cruelty or unkindness to the men, or found 
disorder and uncleanness in the hospital, or on the 
premises. 



290 GAYOSO HOUSE. 

" I have to look after this hospital pretty sharp,'* 
she would say, " for small-pox patients are mighty 
apt not to be taken good care of." But I will not 
now expatiate on " Mother Bickerdyke," as I shall 
have something to say of this remarkable woman in 
another chapter. 

Our headquarters while in Memphis were at the 
" Gayoso House," which had a great reputation for 
style, secession proclivities, and discomfort. The last 
two characteristics were pre-eminent. There were 
nightly drunken rows and fights in the house, some- 
times in rooms adjoining ours, when the crash of 
glass, the ribald song, the fearful profanity, and the 
drunken mirth, drove sleep from our pillows. We 
wei'e detained over two weeks in Memphis, so diffi- 
cult was it to obtain transportation for ourselves and 
stores down the river. Strict military surveillance 
was kept over the boats bound for the South, and 
none were allowed to leave Memphis without a pass 
from the Commander of the Dej^artment. Our 
stores were piled on the levee, waiting reship- 
ment, and a guard was placed over them to keep 
them from thieves. The Gayoso House was over- 
flowing with attaches of the army, waiting a chance 
to go down the river, like ourselves. 

A large company of women were also staying here, 
who made no secret of their sympathy with the 
South. Some half-dozen were waiting an oppor- 
tunity to be passed within the enemy's lines, whither 
they had been ordered by our oflacers. They were 
acting as spies, and sending information to their 
husbands, fathers, and brothers, in the Confederate 
army. The oflEicers were badgered beyond endu- 
rance by them, for they were continually clamoring to 



CONFEDERATE WOMEN. 291 

be sent to Yicksburg. Every loyal woman in the 
house was subjected to their insults, and that, too, 
while they were virtually prisoners of war. We who 
had just come from the JSTorth were specially obnox- 
ious to them. In every petty way they manifested 
their aversion to us. They ran furiously against us 
in the halls and on the stairways, made a general 
stampede from the parlors whenever we entered 
them, held their handkerchiefs to their nostrils when 
in our neighborhood, withdrew their garflients from 
the contamination of contact with ours as they passed 
us, uttering loud sneers against " Yankee soldiers," 
" Yankee women," and " ]^orthern white trash." 

One afternoon, while waiting for a chaplain, who 
was to drive me to some of the regimental hospitals 
outside of Memphis, two of these women came into 
the parlor and sat down. After we had measured 
each other with our eyes for a moment, one of them 
commenced a conversation. She was the wife of a 
member of the Confederate Congress, and her home 
was in Thibodeauxville, La. 

"I am told you are going down below to look 
after sick Yankee soldiers," was her opening re- 
mark. 

" I have been sent from Chicago with some thou- 
sands of boxes of hospital stores for the use of 
United States soldiers," I replied, putting a special 
emphasis on the words " United States," for I had 
heard her loudly express her disgust at the name. 

" I think it is high time somebody went down to 
them, for they are dying like sheep, and have just no 
care at all." 

" That is a mistake. They have the best of care, 
the best of nursing possible under the circumstances, 



292 A PLAIN TALK. 

good surgeons, and delegations going down and 
back all the while in their service." 

" Well, anyhow, you're the first woman that has 
come down here to look after them. This city is 
full of Yankee women, wives of Yankee officers — 
cold-blooded, white-faced, lank, lean women, decked 
out in cotton lace, cheap silks, and bogus jewelry, 
women who are their own servants at home, — what 
do they care for Yankee soldiers, whether they live 
or die? We have done wearing silks and jewels in 
the South until the war is over. I sold my jewels 
and gave the money to the hospitals; and I'd come 
down to wearing ' nigger cloth,' and eating corn 
bread mixed with water, and prepared with my own 
hands, before the men in our hosjjitals should want 
for anything." 

'' Madam, I honor your devotion to your soldiers, 
and only regret the badness of your cause. At the 
North we are equally solicitous for the welfare of our 
men. But you make the mistake of supposing that 
we at the North are as poor as you at the South. 
The war is not impoverishing us as it is you. Our 
women can afford to wear silks and jewelry, and yet 
provide everything needful for the soldiers. When- 
ever it becomes necessary, we shall be ready to make 
as great sacrifices as you." 

" Ah, loe have soldiers tvortJi the sacrifice we 
make! " she said, with a lofty air. " Our men are 
the flower of our youth ; they have the best blood of 
the world in their veins — gentleme?!, every one of 
them. But your Yankee soldiers — ugh!" with a 
shiver of disgust and a grimace of aversion ; " they 
are the dregs of your cities — gutter-snipes, drunken, 
ignorant — ! " 



"ALLOWS ME TO BE AT LARGE ! " 293 

"Stop!" I interrupted; "stop! I won't hear such 
calumny. I know just what sort of ' gentlemen' your 
soldiers are; for we have had seven thousand of 
them at Camp Douglas in Chicago, taken prisoners 
at Fort Donelson ; and if they were the ' flower of 
your youth,' you are worse off for men in the South 
than I had supposed." 

" And I have seen your soldiers, too, to my sorrow 
and horror. They are barbarians, I tell you. They 
came to my husband's villa after he had gone to 
Congress, and I was left alone, with my servants in 
charge, and th^y destroyed everything — everything ! 
My plate, china, pictures, carj^ets, even my furni- 
ture, were imported ; and the wretches ! they burned 
up everything! " 

" If your manners were as unbearable as they have 
been during the two weeks I have seen you in this 
house, I only wonder you escaped cremation with 
your villa and furniture. It is astonishing clemency 
that allows you to be at large in this city, plotting 
against the government and insulting loyal people." 

" Allows me to he at large! " she fiercely screamed, 
almost purple with rage. " Who dares imprison me, 
I'd like to know. You would like to put me in jail, 
and shut me up with murderers, and niggers, and 
thieves, would you? The tables will be turned by 
and by. England is going to help us; and we will 
have our feet on your accursed Yankee necks, before 
you are a year older or wickeder." 

She was standing at her fullest height, her face 
aflame, her eyes on fire, her voice at its highest pitch. 
It was useless to talk further, so I rose and left the 
room, saying at the door, with a low bow, " Until 
that time, madam, I bid you farewell." 



294: A COMPLAINT LODGED AGALN^ST ME. 

I learned afterwards that she went to the provost- 
marshal, and lodged a complaint agamst me, declar- 
ing that she had reason to believe I was taking con- 
traband goods down the river to smuggle within the 
rebel lines, like morphine, quinine, chloroform, medi- 
cines in the package, and cotton cloth in the piece. 
Afterwards, at the dinner-table, she oifered to lay a 
wager of a dozen pairs of gloves that not one of our 
party would go below Memphis, but that we would 
be sent Korth by the first boat. She would have 
lost her bet had any one taken it, as we left Memphis 
for Yicksburg that very night, on the Tigress. 

I learned afterwards that this woman, with her 
friends and companions, was passed within the Con- 
federate lines at Yicksburg a few days later, where 
they remained until the surrender of the city to Gen- 
eral Grant, on the Fourth of July. They were as 
heroic in their endurance of the horrors of the long 
siege as the Confederate men, and evinced courage 
as unyielding, and tenacity of purpose as unflinching, 
as any ofl3.cer who wore the Confederate gray. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

ALONG THE DREARY RIVER — SAD SIGHTS IN A REGIMENTAL 
HOSPITAL — JOLLY BATTERY BOYS — I AM WELCOMED TO 
CAMP BY OLD FRIENDS. 

Perils of the lower River — The Tigress and its disloyal Officers — The 
Stewardess a Yirago — " I could throw you overboard as if you were a 
Cat ! " — Lake Providence and its fathomless Mud — " The Sanitary Com- 
mission's got mired!" — Go down to Milliken's Bend — Distribute 
Supplies to Hospitals — Sorry Plight of a Wisconsin Regiraenta,l Hospital 
— Surgeon-General Wolcott, of Wisconsin, breaks it up — In the Camp 
of the Chicago Mercantile Battery — ' ' What a Hubbub ! What a Jubi- 
lee!" — Evening Prayers in Camp — The Boys get Breakfast — "The 
Victuals will taste better if you don't see the Cooking!" — Leave for 
Young's Point — General Grant's Despatch Boat Fanny Ogden gives 
me Passage. 

''HE lower Mississippi was " on the rampage," 
and was all over its banks. It was shore- 
less in some places, and stretched its dnll, 
turbid waste of waters as far as the eye 
could reach. 'No river is as dreary as the lower 
Mississippi. Day after day, there was but the 
swollen, rushing stream before us. And when the 
banks could be seen, only the skeleton cottonwood 
trees greeted our eyes, hung with the funereal moss, 
that shrouded them as in mourning drapery. The 
swollen river was in our favor; for the enemy could 
not plant batteries on the banks and fire into the pas- 
sing boats until it subsided, especially as the steam- 
ers kept very near the centre of the stream. The 

295 




296 A QUADROON VIRAGO. 

pilot-house of the Tigress was battened with thick 
oak plank, to protect the helmsman from the shots of 
the guerillas. Dozens of bullets were imbedded in 
it, which had been fired from the shore on the last 
trip up the river. And a six-pound shot had crashed 
through the steamer, not two months before, killing 
two or three passengers in the saloon, and badly 
shattering the boat. 

The Tigress was a large, well-appointed boat, and 
had been handsome before it entered army service. 
The officers were understood to be disloyal at heart, 
but willing to work for the government because of its 
magnificent, prompt, and sure pay. The stewardess 
was a beautiful quadroon of thirty-five, with a cat- 
like grace and suppleness of figure, and was won- 
derfully attractive in her manners to those whom she 
liked. I have never seen a handsomer woman. But 
what a virulent, vulgar, foul-mouthed rebel she was ! 
There was not a half-hour of the day that she did not 
grossly insult some one of our party. There was no 
redress ; for we saw that she bore some relationship 
to the clerk, that she was a great favorite with all 
the officers, and that they enjoyed our discomfort 
under her insolence, which they abetted. She hung 
her mocking-bird, named " Jeffy Davis," at our door, 
and then talked to him by the hour, but at us, calling 
us by names with which I cannot befoul this page, 
and charging us with the vilest purposes in coming 
down to the army. 

One day, while we were negotiating with the laun- 
dress of the boat concerning some work we wished 
done, Louisa, the stewardess, came along. 

"Can I wash for these ladies to-day? " inquired 
the laundress of the quadroon virago. 



INSOLENT MANNERS. 297 

^^ Ladies ! " scornfully echoed the insolent creature. 
^'Ladies! "What's yer talkin' about, gal? Yer 
hasn't seen no ladies sence yer lef IST'Orleans. If 
yer means this ' white trash,' " — with a contemptuous 
toss of the head towards where we stood, — " yer 
may wash for 'em or the debil, if yer likes. But 
mind yer gits yer pay, gal, for Yankees are mighty 
mean cusses." 

That day, after dinner, I went into the stern of our 
boat to read. We were opposite the mouth of the 
Yazoo, where a gunboat was standing guard, the 
river being miles wide, and rolling like a sea. Louisa 
followed, to hang up some wet linen to dry, and, as 
usual, commenced talking at me. 

"Dere's dat Yankee gunboat agin! 'Pears like 
ebery Yankee dere 's done dead; for yer neber sees 
nobody. Bress de Lord if dey be ! I'd like to see 
ebery boat gwine IN'orf, piled way up wid dead Yanks. 
Ki! Ebery boatload would make dis yere nigger 
grow one inch fat on de ribs." 

She had approached very near, and w^as standing 
behind me, and we were alone. I turned sharply 
round, laid my hand heavily on her shoulder, and 
looked as terrible as possible. I spoke low, but in a 
very determined tone. 

" You will please stop all this talk about ' dead 
Yankees,' and * white trash,' and cease your inso- 
lent manners towards my friends and myself ! We 
have had enough of it. If it is not stopped imme- 
diately, I will take the matter into my own hands. I 
shall not enter any complaints against you to the cap- 
tain or clerk, but I will put you where we shall have 
no more of your impudence." I brought my other 
hand down heavily on her other shoulder, and spoke 



298 "l COULD THROW YOU OVERBOARD EASILY ! " 

yet lower, and in a tone so tragically terrific that I 
half laughed to hear it. " I could throw you over- 
board as easily as if you were a cat, and I have a 
good mind to do it this minute ! " — tightening my 
grasp on her arms and lifting her from her feet. 
" Go, take that cage down, and carry it to your 
room, and let me hear any more insolent talk if you 
dare, — that's all ! You will see what one Yankee 
woman dares do, for I'll put you where you'll be 
quiet, I promise you! " 

She looked at me frightened, stammered some- 
thing, and, evidently thinking I meditated mischief, 
hurried away from me into the saloon. She was 
completely cowed. Whenever we met afterwards, 
her eyes sought mine, with a " comest-thou-peace- 
ably? " inquiry in them. She gave me a wide 
berth as she passed me, and treated me with a 
consideration that was born of vague fear. But 
there was a marked imj^rovement in her behavior, 
so great, indeed, that it was the subject of general 
comment. I did not divulge my interview with her 
until after we had left the boat, when I informed the 
party of the moral suasion I had brought to bear on 
her. 

"We stopped at Lake Providence, Louisiana, and 
finding everything more than ordinarily comfortable 
in the hospitals, — the sickest of the men having been 
removed I^orth, — we left a quantity of vegetables 
and needed stores for the convalescents, for there 
were no other invalids, and then visited the encamp- 
ment. A canal had been cut from the Mississippi to 
Lake Providence, a quarter of a mile distant, in 
which was a fall of fifteen feet. It was hoped that 
the river would be turned from its natural channel. 



" THE SANITARY COMMISSION'S GOT MIRED ! " 299 

through the lake, — thence through two bayous con- 
necting with it, and into the river Tensas, which 
empties into the Mississippi far below Yicksburg, 
making the circuit of the city. Thus it was believed 
a continuous waterway might be established in the 
rear of the defiant city, but this attempt at flanking 
Yicksburg by water failed, like all others before or 
afterwards. The swollen flood of the Mississij^pi 
rushed into the newly cut channel, broke away all 
confining levees, and deluged and nearly washed 
away eighteen or twenty of the richest counties of 
the state. 

Everywhere we found our brown, busy, rollicking 
fellows seeking a dry place for their encampments. 
There was no limit to their ingenuity. For hours 
and hours we rode through sloughs, finally break- 
ing down in one. Then a score of brawny fellows 
dropped their work of " shebang " building, as they 
called it, and rushed to our relief with rails, and 
planks, and whoops, and yells sufficient for a whole 
tribe of Indians. The two mules, that had sunk to 
their bellies, were extricated first. The men were 
devising ways to lift the ambulance to terra firma, 
when General Logan rode up, who was in command 
at this horrible place. 

"What's the matter, boys?" asked the General, 
seeing the great commotion. 

" Oh, the Sanitary Commission's got mired, that's 
all!" 

The General peeped into the ambulance, where I 
was sitting on the floor, " holding on," as I had been 
directed. The forward wheels had broken through 
the rotten logs that formed a corduroy bridge over 
the slough. The ambulance had pitched forward, 



300 DISTRIBUTING SANITARY STORES. 

and I was " holding on " as well as I could, consid- 
ering I had laughed at the comical performances and 
speeches around me until I was exhausted. The 
whole thing was so ridiculous that the General 
laughed too, but set himself to eifect my release from 
the imprisoning mud, and succeeded at the expense 
of a soiled uniform. We left regiments and hospi- 
tals, fighting mud and water everywhere. We in- 
formed them of the vegetables sent them by the 
Chicago Board of Trade, notified them of the private 
boxes intended for different parties among them, 
deposited at certain points, distributed the letters we 
had brought, and then went to Milliken's Bend, 
farther down the river. 

When we arrived at the Bend, where some thirty 
thousand men were encamped, we notified the Medi- 
cal Director of our arrival with hospital stores. 
He immediately despatched an " orderly " to every 
hospital, sending to every surgeon in charge an 
order on the sanitary boat for whatever he lacked or 
needed,' accompanying it with an order on the quar- 
termaster for teams to remove the packages. In 
many instances we followed the loads to the hospi- 
tals, and witnessed the joy of the poor fellows at this 
tangible proof that they were not forgotten at home. 
Here, as in Memphis, most of the patients were sick 
with miasmatic diseases. There were comparatively 
few, among the thousands and thousands whom we 
saw, suffering from wounds. The dejection of sick 
soldiers we always found greater than that of those 
wounded. They needed more encouragement and 
more cheerful talk. They were homesick, many of 
them longing for mother, wife, sister, and friend. 

Often as I bent over a sick man with a sympa- 



METHODS OF WORK. 301 

thetic word, he would burst into a passion of weep- 
ing, the more violent for long repression. If I found 
I had not time to go from bed to bed with a few 
words to each, I would take a central position, and 
endeavor to cheer the pale, sad, emaciated men, lying 
with white faces pressed against white pillows, their 
hearts travelling back to the homes they had left. I 
would tell them how they were remembered in loving 
pride by the loyal ]N^orth; how all the women of the 
land were planning, and toiling, and sacrificing for 
them ; of the loaded boats at the levee, sent them in 
care of a special delegation; of the certainty felt by 
all that our cause would triumph; of the glad wel- 
come that awaited them when they returned conquer-' 
ors; and of the dear God who was ever near, in 
sickness, in camp, on the battle-field, protecting and 
guiding, and from whose love they could never be 
separated by any depth of misery, sufiering, degra- 
dation, or sin. 

If any had messages to send home, or letters to 
write, or friends whom they wished me to visit, I 
took memoranda of what was desired, in my insepa- 
rable notebook. Many a dying message these 
books contained, from lips hushed a few hours after 
in death. Many an injunction was written in them 
to comfort friends at home, who still sit in the 
shadow of death, feeling that they cannot be com- 
forted until they too pass over the river, to rejoin 
their lost ones. 

From one of the hospitals at the Bend there came 
no surgeon and no requisition. I ordered the inevi- 
table ambulance, with its pair of mules and colored 
driver, and rode two and a half miles to visit its sur- 
geon. A sadder sight I never witnessed during the 



302 A DRUNKEN SURGEON. 

war. It was a regimental hospital — always a com- 
fortless place. It contained about two hundred 
men, all of them very sick, all lying in their uniforms 
on the bare board floor, with their knapsacks for 
pillows, with no food but army rations, no nurses but 
convalescent soldiers, themselves too sick to move 
except on compulsion, the sick men covered with 
vermin, tormented by flies during the day, and de- 
voured by mosquitoes at night, — and their surgeon 
dead-drunk in bed. 

I went through the four large wards of the hospi- 
tal, each one as horrible as the other. In all the 
wards men were dying, and in all they seemed hope- 
less and despairing. There was no complaint, no 
lamentation — only now and then some delirious 
fever patient would clamor for " ice water," or " cold 
water right from the well." I stooped down and 
took one man by the hand, who was regarding me 
with most beseeching looks. " My poor boy," I said, 
"I am very sad to see you in this dreadful condi- 
tion." He pressed my hand on his eyes with both 
his own, and wept aloud. 

Weeping is contagious, and in a few moments one 
half the men in the hospital were sobbmg convul- 
sively. I was afraid it would kill them, they were so 
excessively weak, but it was some time before they 
could be calmed. I had taken along in the ambu- 
lance, tea, sugar, condensed milk, and crackers. 
After I had made tea and distributed it with the 
crackers, I went back to medical headquarters to re- 
port the disgraceful condition of the hospital. I was 
fortunate, for I ran across Surgeon-General Wolcott, 
of Wisconsin, a very noble man. It was a Wiscon- 
sin regiment whose sick were left uncared for, to die 



THE CHICAGO MEECAN'TILE BATTERY. 303 

like dogs — and he rested not until the hospital was 
broken up, the surgeon sent home in disgrace, and 
the men removed to the receiving-boat JS^ashville. 

This was a hospital boat, built on a barge, three 
stories high, fitted up with cooking apparatus, bath- 
rooms, laundry, cots, and whatever else was neces- 
sary. It was towed from landing to landing, receiv- 
ing the sick temporarily, until they could be taken 
off by the hospital steamers, and carried farther 
North. Three weeks later, in passing through the 
wards of the Kashville, I was hailed from one of 
the beds in the following jolly fashion: " I say! We 

are going to live after all, spite of old Gr " — the 

surgeon, — "maggots, flies, mosquitoes, and every- 
thing else. We are getting to be pretty sassy 
again." Here they were, sure enough, getting well 
and already full of fun, and jolly over their discom- 
forts. 

The Chicago Mercantile Battery was encamped 
two miles from the landing, and, as it enrolled over 
thirty young men from the Sunday-school and 
society of my own church in Chicago, besides a 
great many others whom I knew, I determined to 
visit them, when the hospital work at Milliken's Bend 
was done. I had already sent them their private 
packages and letters, and notified them of my in- 
tended visit. The ambulance left me a mile from 
their camp, and in the fragrant twilight of a lovely 
spring day I walked inside the levee, towards its 
location. Soon I saw the dear fellows striding along 
the top of the levee to meet me, their figures stand- 
ing out clearly against the evening sky. I called to 
them, and down they rushed. Such a welcome! 
such a chorus of manly, familiar voices ! such a shak- 

19 



304 WHAT A HUBBUB ! WHAT A JUBILEE ! 

iiig of hands ! such hearty embraces from the younger 
members, sixteen of whom had been members of my 
own Sunday-school class. As I walked with them 
into camp, the boys swarmed from tents and " she- 
bangs," bronzed to the color of the Atlantic Monthly 
covers, all shouting a hearty welcome, noisy, jolly, 
and excited. What a hubbub! What a jubilee! 
Here was a guest from home, who had talked a few 
days before with their fathers and mothers, sisters 
and wives. The best " shebang " of the encampment 
was placed at my disposal, for I was to spend the 
night with them. I was too far from the boat to 
return, had I desired it, and I had planned to be with 
them two or three days. There were unvisited hos- 
pitals in that neighborhood. 

Everything in the way of shelter, in camp parlance, 
that was not a tent, was a shebang. Mine was a 
rough hut made of boards, with a plank floor, roofed 
with canvas, with a hona fide glass window at one 
end, and a panelled door at the other. The furniture 
consisted of two bunks, one built over the other, 
bedded with fresh hay. A pair of blankets had 
been shaken free from dust, and for my special use, 
the officers' overcoats folded smoothly for pillows. 
There was a rough pantry with shelves, holding ra- 
tions, odd crockery and cutlery "jerked from the 
secesh," a home-made rickety table, a bit of looking- 
glass, sundry pails and camp-kettles, a three-legged 
iron skillet, and a drop-light, extemporized from the 
handle of a broken bayonet, and a candle, the whole 
suspended from the ridge-pole by a wire. 

We had a lively time in the " shebang " that even- 
ing. It was packed with the boys, all eager to hear 
from home, who put me through a course of cate- 



PKAYER-MEETING IN CAMP. 305 

chism concerning matters and persons in whom they 
were interested, that soon exhausted my stock of 
information, and left me no resource but to draw on 
imagination. The tide of talk flowed over the night 
into the morning. The " tattoo " had been beaten for 
retiring, and still the boys were loath to go. At last 
I broke up the conference. But before withdrawing, 
George Throop, one of the young men, drew from 
his breast pocket a copy of the l!^ew Testament. 

"You know," he said, "when Mr. T took 

public leave of us in church," — Mr. T was our 

pastor — " he gave each a Testament, and made us 
promise to read it, if possible, daily, while we were 
away. We haven't failed but once or twice, and then 
we were on a forced march. One reads aloud and 
the others listen ; and if you are willing, we will read 
here to-night." 

All heads were instantly uncovered, all hum of 
voices ceased, and a portion of the fifteenth chapter 
of Luke's Gospel was read, when Sergeant Dyer, a 
very noble man belonging to a Baptist church of 
Chicago, voluntarily ofi^'ered a brief and appropriate 
prayer. Alas! I never saw again the young lieu- 
tenant who officiated as Bible reader, nor the ser- 
geant who offered prayer. Both are sleeping under 
the sod on the banks of the Ked River, where they 
fell in battle. One, the young, brave, and handsome 
lieutenant, was shot from his horse as he was urging 
his men on to the fight; and the other, the fatherly 
sergeant, was shot through the heart as he was spik- 
ing his gun, before joining in the retreat which was 
sounded. 

I had a wakeful night. It was my first attempt to 
sleep in camp, and I did better afterwards, when I 



306 "we don't do things woman fashion." 

became used to it. I was in the enemy's country — I 
heard the steady footfall of the guard past my tent, 
and the incessant booming of the great guns at 
Yicksburg, fifteen miles away. I had lived in an 
atmosphere of suifering ever since I left home; 
and all the visions of horror I had witnessed now 
danced about my sleepless pillow. Long before the 
drums beat the reveille, or the myriad birds had fin- 
ished their matins, I had made my ablutions in the 
three-legged iron skillet, given me for that purj)ose, 
and completed my toilet before the little six-by-ten 
inch looking-glass. I hurried out at roll-call, and 
oftered to assist in getting the breakfast. 

But I was not allowed this gratification of my 
feminine desire, for the boys confessed that " they 
didn't do things woman fashion," and that I had 
better remain ignorant of their modus operandi. 
" The victuals Avould taste better if I didn't see the 
cooking ! " I thought so too, after I got a glimpse of 
them making bread in the iron skillet in which I had 
bathed my face and hands. For breakfast, we had 
hot biscuit baked in ovens made of Louisiana mud; 
fried ham; good coffee, to which I added condensed 
milk and white sugar; potatoes, and pickles. Camp 
life gave me a good appetite, and I honored the 
cuisine of the boys by eating heartily. They chal- 
lenged admiration of their ingenious housekeeping, 
and I gratified them by praising them ad lihitum. 

For two days and nights I remained with them. 
There was enough to do, as the Thirteenth Army 
Corps was stationed here. Then General Grant's 
despatch boat Fanny Ogden, the fastest boat on the 
river, steamed to the landing, and with the promise 
of rei3eating the visit before I returned home, I left 



BELEAGUERED VICKSBURG. 307 

for Young's Point. The Tigress had preceded me, 
and had transferred her remaining stores to the sani- 
tary boat Omaha. Here- 1 found them, the boat an- 
chored bej^ond the range of the batteries, directly in 
front of beleaguered Vicksburg. Silent and dark as 
a dead cit}^, it lay stealthily behind its defences, 
watching with Argus eyes the movements of the foe 
in front, belching defiance and protest from its mon- 
ster guns, which bristled tier above tier, from the 
river brink to the top of the highest bluff. ]^ot a 
sign of life was visible during the day, nor yet dur- 
ing the night, except when the heavy guns blazed 
out in fiery menace, accentuating their threat with a 
growl of thunder. Here too were moored the Black 
Hawk, the headquarters of Commodore Porter, and 
the Magnolia, headquarters of General Grant. My 
experiences here must form the subject of another 
chapter. 



CHAPTER XIY. 

OPPOSITE VICKSBURG — ARRIVAL AT GENERAL GRANT'S 
HEADQUARTERS — MY INTERVIEW WITH HIM — MY PETI- 
TION—A TOUCHING STORY. 

We call on General Grant — Reticent, patient, and persistent — We put our- 
selves on " short Rations" of Talk with Mm — Stories of his Intemper- 
ance foul Calumnies — His chivalric Defence of General Sherman — Am 
entrusted with a Variety of Errands to him — My Decision concerning 
them — Second call alone on General Grant — " The Gibraltar of Amer- 
ica" — The General is very accessible — Not hedged about by Formali- 
ties — The most bashful Man I had ever encountered — '' I will let you 
know Tomorrow " — Discharges twenty-one invalid Soldiers, and gives me 
Transportation for them — One dies in Memphis — Another dies in 
Chicago, almost Home. 

JAYI^G reached Young's Point, our first 
movement was to call on General Grant, to 
present our letters of introduction and en- 
dorsement. Our letters of endorsement 
were from the Secretary of War, the Governors 
^"^ of Illinois and Wisconsin, and our letters of 
introduction from Dr. Bellows, the President of the 
United States Sanitary Commission. Two or three 
of us, w^ho had wished to be prepared for any special 
emergency that might arise, had obtained letters of 
recommendation from personal friends of General 
Grant. His headquarters were on the Magnolia, 
where we found him domiciled, unsurrounded by any 

308 




GENERAL GRANT NOT GARRULOUS. 309 

circumstance of pomp or state. All of us who called 
upon him were as well bestowed in our sanitary boat 
Omaha, as he, and had in our quarters as much style 
and luxury. 

Our interview was a brief one, and, on the part of 
the General, laconic. We talked; he listened, and 
appeared to approve our errand. For, as we rose 
to go, he inquired if he could aid us in our work. 
Calling one of his staff officers, and presenting him 
to us, he requested him to see that any help we might 
require in the way of escort, passes, ambulances, 
transportation, etc., was promptly furnished. He 
regretted, at the same time, that he had not a tug to 
put at our service, to take us from point to point on 
the river. The Fanny Ogden, he continued, was 
his despatch boat, and the swiftest boat in the West- 
ern service. It would be running back and forth 
continually, and whenever it went in a direction that 
corresponded with our movements we were heartily 
welcome to its transportation. 

This interview decided two points which had been 
discussed among ourselves and others. One was, 
that General Grant was not a garrulous man ; and 
the other, tJiat he was not intem'perate. All the way 
down from Chicago, we had heard continually of 
General Grant's sayings, as well as his doings. We 
were told that he had said " he would take Yicksburg 
in so many days, if it cost him three fourths of his 
army"; that "he would turn the waters of the Mis- 
sissippi, and leave Yicksburg high and dry, a mile 
and a half inland," with other like nonsense, which, 
at that time, did not seem nonsense to the anxious 
people at home, who neither understood Grant nor 
the colossal work on his hands. 



310 GENERAL GRANT NOT INTEMPERATE. 

Our faith in all this twaddle had been somewhat 
feeble, to be sure; but, as we went out from our first 
audience with the General, we utterly renounced all 
credence in its verity. In the first five minutes of our 
interview, we learned, by some sort of spiritual teleg- 
raphy, that reticence, patience, and persistence were 
the dominant traits of General Grant. "We had had 
familiar and unconventional interviews with other 
officers we had met, had asked questions and given 
opinions, had gossiped and joked and "played the 
agreeable " with them. But we would as soon have 
undertaken a tete-d-tete with the Sphinx itself as with 
this quiet, repressed, reluctant, undemonstrative man ; 
and we should have succeeded as well with one as 
with the other. We instinctively put ourselves on 
" short rations " of talk with him, and so compressed 
the porosities of language that no one of us will ever 
have to give account of " idle words " used on that 
occasion. 

;N"either was General Grant a drunkard, — that 
was immediately apparent to us. This conviction 
gave us such joy, that, had we been younger, we 
should all, men and women alike, have tossed our 
hats in air and hurrahed. As it was, we looked each 
other in the face, and said heartily, "Thank God!" 
and breathed more freely. We had seen enough, in 
our progress down the river, at the different head- 
quarters where we had called, to render us anxious 
beyond measure lest our brave army should be jeop- 
ardized, if not our holy cause itself, by the intem- 
perance of its commanders. But the clear eye, clean 
skin, firm flesh, and steady nerves of General Grant 
gave the lie to the universal calumnies, then current, 
concerning his intemperate habits and those of the 



GENERAL SHERMAN DISCUSSED. 311 

ol^icers of his staff. Our eyes had become practised 
in reading- the diagnosis of drunkenness. 

There were ladies in our party who both played 
the piano, and sang, very charmingly. One evening, 
we accepted an invitation from General Grant's 
Chief-of-Staff to pass an hour or two on board the 
Magnolia. Our host informed us that " there was a 
very good piano at General Grant's headquarters, 
and that he was very fond of music." After an hour 
of music, we drifted into a conversation upon various 
topics, until finally General Sherman became the sub- 
ject of discussion. I observed now that General 
Grant listened intently. 

General Sherman, at that time, was under a cloud. 
With the right wing of the Army of the Tennessee, 
thirty thousand strong, he had passed down the 
Mississippi and up the Yazoo to Johnston's Land- 
ing, where he made an assault on the well-manned 
fortifications and batteries which defended Vicks- 
burg on the north. Abundant and efficient co-opera- 
tion was promised him, and he hoped to develop 
some weak point in the enemy's defences, which 
extended fifteen miles, from Haines' Bluff to Vicks- 
burg. Then it was believed he could fight his way 
along the heights into the city. 

But for various reasons he failed to receive the 
support which was promised, while the difficulties 
growing out of the topography of the abominable 
country were almost insurmountable. He was re- 
pulsed with great slaughter, losing over two thou- 
sand men, while the enemy reported a loss of only 
sixty-three killed. Biu'ying his dead under a flag of 
truce. General Sherman re-embarked his men for 
Young's Point — and Secretary Halleck ordered 



312 ''THE GREATEST SOLDIER IN THE WORLD." 

General John A. McClernand of Illinois to super- 
sede him. 

Immediately General Sherman fell in public estima- 
tion. The ^N^orthern press was very decided in con- 
demnation of his generalship; and as we went down 
the river, we had heard this condemnation reiter- 
ated and emphasized by men in all positions, many 
of whom declared the General insane. Some of this 
gossip was repeated in the conversation that took 
place on the Magnolia, one of the company remark- 
ing that " it was very evident that General Sherman 
had been much overrated in the past." 

This brought out General Grant. " You are mis- 
taken, sir ! " he said, very quietly. " General Sher- 
man cannot be overrated. He is the greatest soldier 
of the world; and if the Duke of Wellington were 
alive, I would not rank him second even to him." 

" The country will place you before General 
Sherman in soldierly ability," replied some one 
p]-esent. " It will never assent to the statement 
that General Sherman is entitled to the first place, 
not even when you make it." 

" The country does General Sherman great injus- 
tice, at present," was General Grant's reply. " I am 
not his superior as a soldier. If I surpass him any- 
where, it may be in the planning of a campaign. 
But of what value are the best planned campaigns, 
if there are not great soldiers like General Sherman 
to execute them?" And he spoke with the warmth 
of friendship, and as one jealous of the honor of a 
brother soldier. Subsequent events have justified 
this estimate of General Sherman, and demonstrated 
the impossibility of creating jealousy or antagonism 
between these two great men. 



MY DECISIOlSr. 313 

I had been entrusted with a great variety of 
errands to General Grant, every military post and 
hospital at which we stopped adding to my budget. 
I received these commands, and took copious memo- 
randa of facts, events and dates connected with them, 
not quite sure what I should do when the time came 
to act. Some j)resented requests to have wrongs 
righted. Others asked favors not easily obtained, or 
made a statement of grievances, or besought pardon 
for offences which were being punished with loss of 
position, — and so on. I was frequently told that 
my only hope of success, in some of these cases, lay 
in the fact that I was a woman, and that " women 
could do anything they desired with army officers." 

I came to a very swift decision concerning these 
errands after I had been to General Grant's head- 
quarters. Only one class of them was sufficiently 
important to challenge the attention of a commander 
w^hose whole soul was absorbed in the attempt to 
solve the problem how best and most speedily to 
conquer Yicksburg, the " Gibraltar of America," as 
Jefferson Davis had confidently declared it. There 
rose the impregnable city, strong in its natural posi- 
tion, bristling with batteries to its very highest pin- 
nacle, and for fifteen miles along the river bank. 
And here sat the determined officer, defeated in his 
every attempt to flank the Mississippi, but still un- 
faltering in his resolve to subjugate this defiant 
citadel of the Confederacy, and revolving more 
daring schemes for the accomplishment of this never- 
to-be-yielded purpose. The only petition I could 
bring myself to present to such a man, at such a 
time, was one that involved the life of a score of his 
soldiers — my brothers. 



314 A PETITION FOR TWE:N^TT-0I^E sick MEN". 

In my visits to the hospitals there had been brought 
to my notice the cases of several sick soldiers — 
twenty-one in all — who were pronounced incurable 
by the surgeons. The poor fellows would speedily 
die, or their illnesses would become chronic, and 
they would drag on a few miserable years in con- 
firmed invalidism. In any case they were worthless 
to the government, and should be discharged from 
its service. There were many such cases, but these 
were of peculiar hardship, because in every instance 
there was an absolute hindrance to their discharge, 
through irregularity, for which they were not re- 
sponsible, and that could not be easily righted. 
They had lost their "descriptive lists"; or their 
regiments were on some remote expedition, beyond 
the reach of mails; or they were too ill to go home 
unaccompanied, and furloughs were just then a for- 
bidden favor. All the details of these twenty-one 
cases were committed to me, with the endorsement 
of the surgeons in whose hospitals they were, and 
who certified that these men could render the govern- 
ment no further aid, and should be released from 
military service. 

The request that these twenty-one dying soldiers 
should be discharged, and sent home, was the only 
one I felt willing to present to General Grant, 
for, as matters were, he alone could discharge them. 
Having " got the hang " of the General on the first 
interview, I resolved to see him again, alone, and 
urge my suit in behalf of the poor fellows. It was 
a somewhat irregular proceeding, and I knew it; but 
I also knew that he had the power to discharge them 
in the teeth of any informality, and I believed he 
would, when he knew all the facts. At any rate, I 



TERRA FIRMA WAS N^OWHERE. 315 

would not go back without making an effort for the 
helpless boys who had besought my aid, and had 
sent after me their prayers and anxious thoughts. 

So a few mornings after, when breakfast was over, 
without informing any one on the sanitary boat of my 
purpose, I started alone for the Magnolia. How to 
get there was a question, for terra firma was no- 
where. Where it was not mud, it was water; and 
where it was not water, it was mud; and the mud 
was so liquefied that you sank into it as though 
walking through porridge. There was substantial 
footing on the levees, but those did not run in the 
direction whither I was going. One of the boys of 
Colonel Bissell's Engineer Corps spied me standing 
ankle-deep in mud, and offered his help. I needed 
it, for the Magnolia had moved iipstream nearly half 
a mile, and I had lost my reckoning. He piloted me 
over sloughs bridged by his corps, in which lay rot- 
ting carcasses of horses and mules, which had got 
" mired," and been left to die. I went up the gang- 
way of the Magnolia, and there confronted the 
guard. 

" I wish to see General Grant," I said to him. " I 
have letters of introduction — one from the Secre- 
tary of War — and I wish to put these papers in his 
hands." 

" Pass up stairs into the saloon," was his reply. 
At the head of the stairway I was halted by another 
guard, to whom I told the same story. 

" Pass round behind the screen," was the reply. 
The saloon of the Magnolia was partitioned into 
three apartments by movable green baize screens. 
I passed round in front of the first of these, as 
directed, and came upon the officers of General 



316 A SECOND CALL ON" GENERAL GKANT. 

Grant's staff, lounging and chatting. To them I 
repeated my story, and was directed to pass round 
behind the next screen. There sat a body of medical 
men, with reports and documents, and any quantity 
of budgets tied with red tape. One of them chanced 
to be a Chicago physician, and we recognized each 
other. To him I told my desire, and presented my 
papers, and was again directed to pass around behind 
the screen — the third one — where I should find the 
General alone. 

I obeyed, and, through the blue haze of cigar smoke 
circling through the apartment, I saw General Grant, 
sitting at the table, wearing his hat, a cigar in his 
mouth, one foot on a chair, and buried to his chin 
in maps, letters, reports, and orders. Whatever 
mauvaise lionte I may have felt in thus obtruding 
myself upon the modest General, was speedily ban- 
ished by his discomposure. For a moment he seemed 
the most bashful man I had ever encountered. Ris- 
ing, and placing a half-dozen chairs at my service, 
he begged me to be seated, removing his hat, and 
taking his cigar from his mouth, and then quickly 
and unconsciously replacing both. I remained stand- 
ing, and, without any circumlocution whatever, an- 
nounced my errand, and implored his aid. He heard 
me without interruption. 

" But these are matters that should be laid before 
my Medical Director. I have put all these things out 
of my hands," were his first words. 

Yes, I knew that, and told him so; and I also told 
him that it was necessary for some one to " cut red 
tape" boldly and promptly in behalf of these men; 
that no subordinate dared do it, but all said he 
could, and encouraged me to believe that he would. 



DISCHARGE OF MY PROTEGES. 317 

And I besought him, with the earnestness that women 
felt in these sad cases during the war, to give me the 
pleasure of returning these boys to the mothers, 
sisters, and wives, who would lighten with love the 
dark valley of death into which they were fast de- 
scending. I promised, if he gave them discharge 
and transportation, to take every man to his friends, 
leaving no one of them until I saw him well cared 
for. The General briefly examined the documents I 
gave him, and then said "he would let me know 
to-morrow what could be done." 

The next evening, an officer of his staff came to 
our boat, enlivening an hour with most charming and 
intelligent conversation. He made me supremely 
happy with the discharge of these twenty-one sol- 
diers from the service of the country, who had been 
rewarded with loss of health, and, as it afterwards 
proved to some of them, with loss of life. 

But if Zwas happy, what shall I say of the poor 
emaciated fellows, who looked for my return to them 
as one looks for a reprieve from sentence of death? 
Most of these men were brought ^orth on our sani- 
tary boat. One of them died on the way, and was 
buried at Memphis, and another died in Chicago. 
His home was in Wisconsin; and a ride of four 
hours more would have taken him to the arms of his 
mother, who was expecting him. But when we 
reached Chicago, Saturday evening, the train for his 
town had left, and he was compelled to remain in the 
city over Sunday. I took him to a hotel near the 
station from which he was to start on Monday; and, 
when I had seen him comfortable in bed, wished to 
leave him, to telegraph his mother of his nearness to 
her, and then to go to my own family. I promised 



318 SLEEPING THE SLEEP OF DEATH. 

to send him a nnrse in less than an hour, and to ac- 
company him home to Wisconsin myself on Monday. 
But he begged so wildly that I would retnrn myself 
and stay with him, that I consented, after I had in- 
formed my family of my return to the city. He fol- 
lowed me to the door with his beseeching eyes, say- 
ing, " I hate to have you go, for it seems as if I 
should not see you again." I assured him that I 
would not be absent above two hours at the furthest, 
and, as he wished no one to remain in the room with 
him, I left the door ajar, getting the promise of the 
chambermaid to look in upon him occasionally. 

In less than two hours I was back at his bedside. 
" He has been sleeping quietly ever since you left," 
said the servant. There he lay as I had left him, 
with one hand under his head, his face turned 
towards the door, that he might see any one who 
entered the room. Sleeping r* Yes — the sleep of 
death. 

Mothers will not think me weak when I confess 
that I closed the door and locked it, and then wept 
Jong and bitterly over the dead boy — not for him, 
but for the mother whose youngest child he was. 
He had so longed for his mother, this boyish, twenty- 
year-old soldier! Again and again had he said to 
me : " I don't expect to get well — I know I must 
die; but if I can only see my mother once more I 
shall be willing to die." 

On Monday she came for his coffined body. As 
she bent over him and wrestled with her mighty 
grief, she seemed to find comfort in the oft-uttered 
thought, that " he had given his life for his country." 



CHAPTER Xy. 

I AM INSTALLED HEAD COOK IN A FIELD HOSPITAL — CHEER- 
ING UP THE "BOYS" — CAPRICIOUS APPETITES — MY RIDE 
WITH BLACK SOCRATES— VICKSBURG. 

Large Field Hospital at Young's Point — Am put in Charge — Cater to the 
capricious Appetites — " Tea and Toast " for a forty-five-year-old " Boy " 

— "Tea! tea! tea! from the homespun Teapot" — Lemonade under 
Difficulties — Men transferred to Hospital Steamer City of Memphis 

— Visit to the Thirteenth Illinois — "Socrates" and his Six-Mule 
Team — "Mules is dat mean dey has ter be licked!" — Accomplish- 
ments of the Thirteenth Illinois — "The stealing Regiment" — Ac- 
company the Engineer Corps down the Levee — Peep into Vicksburg 
with a powerful Glass — No sign of Home-Life — Rams Lancaster and 
Switzerland run the Blockade — One destroyed, the other disabled. 

OST of the hospitals at Young's Point were 
regimental. There was one large field hos- 
pital, made by pitching tents lengthwise, 
one beside the other, and one opening into 
the other, but it was a comfortless place. In 
this field hospital were one hundred and fifty or 
two hundred men, all sick with diseases that had 
assumed a chronic form, the surgeon said. A hospi- 
tal steamer, the City of Memphis, was daily expected 
at the Point, when this hospital was to be broken up, 
and the patients removed to St. Louis. I received 
permission to do anytTiing I pleased for them within 
certain specified limits ; and the head surgeon seemed 
20 319 




320 INCOJ^^VENIENCES FOR COOKING. 

much gratified that I manifested an interest in his 
men. He evidently lacked force and vital sympathy 
with his patients. He was a man of routine, a man 
of prescriptions; but he was kind-hearted. He in- 
dicated what patients might have toast, tea, and soft- 
boiled eggs; who could be treated to ^'' egg nog," 
who to lemonade; who might have soup, and who 
only gruel; and he plainly marked on the diet-book, 
for my assistance, the food for each. There was 
nothing for any of the patients in the hospital but 
army rations. 

"Moreover," said the surgeon, " if you really wish 
to arrange special diet for these men yourself, I will 
put at your service the most efficient colored help we 
have, and our conveniences for cooking." Con- 
veniences! The good man must certainly have meant 
^conveniences ; for there was no kitchen, no stove, 
no cooking apparatus, — nothing except two or three 
immense portable soup-kettles, or boilers, with a little 
furnace and pipe attached. The cooking was per- 
formed in the open air, where rain, smoke, and ashes 
saturated both the cook and the food. The colored 
men speedily made a huge fire of cottonwood logs 
sufficient to roast an ox; and, having seen water put 
into the boilers to heat, I went into the hospital to 
investigate the appetites of the men. 

It was a miserable place, although, at that time, and 
in that locality, the best probably that could be done. 
The cots were plaqed inside the tents, on the un- 
planked ground. The soil was so dropsical that 
wherever one trod, it sank under one's weight, and 
one immediately stood in a little jdooI of water. The 
legs of the cots stood on small square pieces of board, 
which alone kept them from sinking into the moist 



THE MEN HAD LOST HEART AND HOPE. 321 

earth. The weather was warm as July in our cli- 
mate, although it Avas April, and the atmosphere was 
dense with gnats, small flies, and every other variety 
of winged insect. The hospital swarmed with large 
green flies, and their buzzing was like that of a bee- 
hive. The men were hushed to the stillness of death. 
They had been sick a long while, and had utterly 
lost heart and hope. Many of them did not even lift 
their hands to brush away the flies that swarmed into 
eyes, ears, noses, and mouths. 

I walked through the oozy, mudd}^ aisle to the end 
of the connected tents ; but not even the rare sight 
of a woman among them induced a man to speak, few 
even to turn their heads. I wanted to break this 
apath}^, to see a little life kindled in these disheart- 
ened fellows. I saw that I must create a little sensa- 
tion among them. So, taking a stand in the centre 
of the tents, I called to them in a cheerful, hearty 
tone, " l^oys ! do you know you are to be got ready 
to go ]^orth in a day or two?" This brought up a 
few heads, and caused a little additional buzzing from 
the flies, which were brushed away that the men 
might hear better. " This hospital is to be broken 
up by day after to-morrow," I continued, " and you 
are to go to St. Louis, and perhaps to the Chicago 
hospitals. The City of Memphis is on its way down 
here for you. By next Saturday at this time you 
will be almost home. Isn't this tiptop news? " 

I had roused them now. There was a general 
waking up at the sound of the words " almost 
home." They had lost mental stamina in their pro- 
tracted illness, and needed the tonic of a great hope, 
or the influence of a stronger mind exerted upon 
them. After the first shock of surprise was over, 



322 CATERING TO CAPRICIOUS APPETITES. 

the men gathered their wits, and precipitated ques- 
tions upon me, in a slow, sick, drawling, semi-articu- 
late fashion, a dozen speaking at a time: " Where'd 
— you — come — from? " " Who — told — you — 
so? " " What — you — down — here — for? " I had 
aroused their curiosity, and I hastened to answer 
their questions as they had asked them — all at once. 
I had gained an advantage, and hastened to follow 
it up. 

" 'Now, boys, I expect to stay here till this hospital 
is bi'oken up; and if you would like to have me, I 
am going to stay here with you. I have lots of good 
things for you. The folks at home have sent me 
down here, and have given me everything that you 
need; eggs, tea, crackers, white sugar, condensed 
milk, lemons, ale, everything — and your surgeon 
wants you to have them. He has told me what each 
one of you can have. !Now, my boy," turning to the 
man nearest me, " if you could have just what you 
wanted, what would you ask for?" He was a 
mai-ried man, as old as myself, but at that time, in 
his miserable weakness and discouragement, a mere 
puling, weeping baby. 

It was an effort for him to think or decide; but 
finally he settled on a slice of toast, a poached egg, 
and tea. I brought out my spirit lamp, bottle of 
alcohol, and teapot, and made the tea before his eyes, 
sweetening it with loaf sugar, and adding condenced 
milk. One of the negro assistants toasted the bread 
by the roaring, crackling fire outside, burning up 
half a dozen slices by way of preliminaries, and 
looking, when she brought the crispy cinders to me, 
with her characteristic "It's done done, missis!" as 
if she had strewn ashes on her head for her ill-luck. 



"tea and toast liive that 'ere!" 323 

I dropped an egg into boiling water, cooking it 
slightly, and laid it on the toast, bnttering the whole 
economically for the sake of the sick man's stomach, 
and then took it to his cot. 

A hundred pairs of eyes had been watching these 
preparations, and as I set the tin cup of tea and tin 
plate of toast on the campstool, T received a score 
of orders from neighboring beds for " some tea and 
toast, just like that 'ere." Crowding his knapsack 
and pillow behind him, I propped up the forty-five- 
year-old " boy " to whose uncertain appetite I was 
catering, and invited him to taste his " special diet." 
As he tasted, a sickly smile distorted his thin ghastly 
face, which was succeeded by a fit of weeping, his 
tears literally mingling with his drink. " Is it 
good?" I asked. "Oh, — proj^er — good! — jest 

— like — what — my — wife — makes ! " with the 
drawl of long sickness and great weakness. 

I had got into business. "Tea! tea! tea! with 
white sugar and milk in it ! " — was the cry that 
came up from every bed. I undertook to make the 
tea by the wholesale, in the inevitable camp-kettle, in 
which soldiers make tea, cofi^ee, soup, and cook 
everything. But no! they would have it from my 
"homespun teapot," as one of them called it. 
" Don't — let — that — 'ere — old — teapot — o' y ourn 

— git — played — out -^ before — you — git — to — 
me ! " entreated a Missourian at the farther end of 
the hospital. I explained to him that there was no 
"play out" to the teapot; that I had alcohol and tea 
enough to keep it in active operation for weeks, — 
and he then waited patiently for his turn. 

For nearly three days I made tea for all who 
wanted it in that three-pint teapot, over an alcohol 



324 THE SICK BECOME MOKE HOPEFUL. 

lamp. It came out from this service as good as new. 
And when a party of nine of us went from Chicago 
across the Plains, four years after, all the tea neces- 
sary to our inspiriting was brewed in that same army 
teapot. It still lives, and does duty at midnight, 
when now and then a hard night's work cannot be 
avoided. 

I had with me the condensed extract of beef, and 
desiccated vegetables, so that the soup-making was 
an easy matter. Before dark, limited as were the 
arrangements of my cuisine, every man was made 
more comfortable, happiei', and more hopeful, than 
had seemed possible in these forlorn quarters. Ex- 
cept, alas! some seven who lay dying, their wide- 
open eyes seeing only the invisible — slowly drifting, 
drifting, drifting, out on the great ocean of eternity. 
Three of them died before morning, and were buried 
in the side of the levee before I got round to the 
hospital the following day. 

The next day and the day after were spent in 
about the same way, varied with letter-writing for the 
men, and in hearing the multiform versions of their 
various troubles, which were mainly the troubles of 
wives and children, and friends at home. As badly 
off as they were themselves, covered with the mud 
and filth of months of sickness, neglected, unnursed, 
unwashed, uncared for as they needed to be, they had 
little to say of themselves. It was of their dear ones 
at home, some of whom, not thinking of the harm 
they were doing, poured out their magnified little 
sorrows into the letters they wrote their soldier rela- 
tives. These were read and re-read, and brooded 
over, and then placed under the pillow to be read 
again, until the sick man's fevered imagination peo- 



SILENT, UNCOMPLAINING HEROES. 325 

pled his waking, as his sleeping hours, with phan- 
toms of horror. 

If onr men were brave on the field, they were still 
braver in the hospital. I can conceive that it may be 
easy to face death on the battle-field, when the pulses 
are maddened by the superhuman desire for victory, — 
when the roar of artillery, the cheers of the officers, 
the call of the bugles, the shout and charge and rush 
impel to action, and deaden reflection. But to lie 
suffering in a hospital bed for months, cared for as a 
matter of routine and form, one's name dropped, and 
one only known as " ^N'umber Ten," " Number Twen- 
ty," or " Numbei' Fifty "; with no comiDanionship, no 
affection, none of the tender assiduities of home nurs- 
ing, hearing from home irregularly and at rare inter- 
vals, utterly alone in the midst of hundreds; sick, in 
pain, sore-hearted and depressed, — I declare this re- 
quires more courage to endure, than to face the most 
tragic death. 

Oh, the Christ-like patience I have seen in the 
hospitals! Oh, the uncomplaining endurance of sol- 
diers who had been reared as tenderly as girls, and 
who were just from under their mothers' wing! In 
every hospital there were* these silent heroes, whose 
gentle patience and uncomplaining fortitude glorified 
the rough wards. Every woman nurse, every mat- 
ron, every " Sister of Mercy " who did duty beside 
the beds of our sick and wounded during the war, 
carries in her heart tender memories of them, which 
sanctify the otherwise horrible associations of army 
life. 

On the third day the City of Memphis steamed 
to the landing, and as rapidly as possible the patients 
of this comfortless field-hospital were taken on board. 



326 "this is like home!" 

put in a warm bath, their hair cut, fresh, clean gar- 
ments given them in exchange for the filthy ones 
they wore, and then in sweet, clean beds they started 
up the river for St. Louis. They had been trans- 
ferred from one hospital to another, each as destitute 
of proper accommodations as the one the}^ had left; 
so that most of them were rooted in the belief that 
the transfer to this hospital steamer would prove 
only another illustration of a change of place, and a 
retention of discomfort. But a smile stole to their 
faces as they were lifted into fresh beds, and from 
scores of pallid lips came the outspoken satisfaction: 
" Oh, this is good! this is like home! " 

I went on board to bid them " good-bye," and 
found them vastly improved by their change of con- 
dition. To some I had been more drawn than to 
others, and in a few I had become specially inter- 
ested. One of these had never recovered from an 
attack of pneumonia, and was fearfully attenuated 
and sj)ectral. But his physical decay had not told 
on his mental condition, and he was enduring mutely 
and heroically, asking no sympathy, making no com- 
plaints, never parading his suiferings, never whining 
or impatient, and always 'accepting the attentions 
paid him with grateful courtesy. I went over to his 
bed, and, ofiering my hand, said in a lower tone, 
and less familiarly than to the others: "Good-bye, 
my friend! I am glad you are going IS'orth. The 
change of climate will set you up directly; I think 
you will get well right away now." 

He shook his head. " I am not concerned about 
it. I gave myself to God when I entered the service, 
and I have tried to do my duty. Whether I live or 
die is His business." 



BLACK "SOCRATES." 327 

" That is so; but for the sake of those who love 
you, I hope you will recover." 

Without lifting his eyes again to my face, and 
withdrawing his hand from mine, he said in a lower 
voice, " There is nobody to care whether I live or 
die. I am obliged to you, though, for the interest 
you express." I never heard of him afterwards. 

I had been requested before leaving home to visit 
the camp of the Thirteenth Illinois, if I should hap- 
pen in their neighborhood; and I had been entrusted 
with various packages for individuals belonging to it. 
These I had sent forward, and had received acknowl- 
edgment of their receipt. They were encamped 
seven miles down the levee, and almost daily I had 
received a note from some man of the regiment 
charging me " not to forget to come to them," with 
other similar messages. 

One pleasant day I started for their encampment. 
The only chance of riding was in an army wagon, 
drawn by six mules, and loaded with molasses, hard- 
tack, salt pork, and coffee. A very black negro 
drove the team, who rejoiced in the name of " Soc- 
rates." He pronounced his name as if it were 
" Succotash." In this lumbering ark I took passage 
through the mud and water. We had gone but a 
little way when we stuck fast in the mud. Thereupon 
black Socrates fell into a passion worthy of Xan- 
tippe, and cudgelled the mules unmercifully. They 
kicked, and pulled, and floundered, and at last extri- 
cated themselves. We started again, rode slowly on 
a little farther, again got stuck in the mud, and again 
Socrates plied his cudgel, and beat and swore, and 
swore and beat, until I could endure it no longer. 

" What are you beating the mules for? " I remon- 



328 THE THIRTEENTH ILLINOIS. 

strated. " Don't you see they are doing the best 
they can?" 

" Lors, missis, dey orter be licked. Mules is dat 
mean dey allers won't pull a bit when dey knows 
yer's gwine som'whar in a hurry." 

" AYell, I won't have them beat any more, ^ow 
stop it. I cannot stand it. It hurts me." 

Socrates threw back his head, showed all his 
gleaming teeth, and laughed immoderately. " Yer'd 
git hurt a heap, missis, if yer stayed hyar allers; for 
I 'clar to goodness, mules is dat mighty mean dat 
yer jes' has ter lick 'em! " and he flew to cudgelling 
again. It was too much. I could not endure it; 
and, crawling out from the molasses and pork, I 
picked my way to the top of the levee, thickly dotted 
with soldiers and tents. 

For miles the inside of the levee was sown with 
graves, at the head and foot of which were rude 
wooden tablets, bearing the name and rank of the 
deceased, and sometimes other particulars. The sol- 
diers spoke of their buried comrades in a nonchalant 
way, as " planted." In most cases the poor fellows 
had been wrapped in their blankets, and buried with- 
out coffins, or " overcoats," as the men called them. 
In places the levee was broken, or washed out b}^ the 
waters, and the decaying dead were partially disin- 
terred. This sickening sight did not move me then 
as it would now, for hospital and army life, after the 
first few weeks, mercifully bred a temporary stoicism, 
that enabled one to see and hear any form or tale of 
horror without deep emotion. 

A young lieutenant became my guide and escort 
to the camp of the Thirteenth Illinois. We came 
ui^on it unexpectedly. I halted reverently, and laid 




FAMOUS UNION BATTLE-FLAGS 



I. lIuKewitli Ills Ko.Ql 
4-. l-'ii si Miiin An. 



'd Tweiily loiu-tli Muh. l-ic^Vt. 
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'A. Kiglilh Mo, Kodt. 

(i. Sownth X.Y. Il(>.-i\v..\i-t. 



Fnr Di'S<ri/)hon^ fee piK/na ■?■} ''^7. 
PHOTOGRAPHED AND PAINTED FROM THE ORIGINAL FLAGS EXPRESSLY FOR THIS WORK 



D. WORTHINGTON Sc CO PUBLISHERS , 



"the stealing regiment." 331 

my hand upon the lieutenant's arm, for some sort of 
service was in progress in the camp. The men were 
standing or sitting in a body, and a chaplain was 
delivering an address, or preaching a sermon. As I 
listened, he seemed to be setting the sins of his audi- 
ence before them in a manner that savored more of 
frankness than tact, and he was exhorting the men 
to repentance. The boys, however, seemed to enjoy 
the recital of their shortcomings and sins of commis- 
sion, and frequently assisted the preacher's memory 
to facts which he had forgotten, or did not know, 
suggesting peculiar punishments for them, all of 
which was immediately adopted into the discourse. 
I thought the interruptions of the soldier audience 
needless and profane. Little as I sympathized with 
the queer exhortation of the chaplain, I tried to in- 
fuse into my manner an expression of reverence, 
that would rebuke the wild fellows. The service 
was brought to an abrupt close by one of the men 
shouting out, " I say, Harry, you'd better wind up 
your gospel yarn, and see who's behind you! " 

There was a shout. The speaker turned toward 
me, when lo, it was no chaplain, but the young 
brother of one of my friends, an irrepressible wag 
and mimic. His mimicry in this case, if reprehensi- 
ble, was perfect. I found that this regiment had 
made itself quite a reputation by its versatility. 
Thei'e was nothing its men could not do. All the 
arts, trades, professions, and mechanical employ- 
ments were represented in it. In addition to their 
other accomplishments they were such experts in 
quizzical thefts, that they had earned the somewhat 
equivocal sobriquet of " The Stealing Regiment." 

The brigade surgeon walked back with me part of 



332 "haven't got any hospital!" 

the way, and gave me an amusing account of their 
exploits in this line, some of which were very comi- 
cal. He told me afterwards, that while he was thus 
engaged, the boys went to his tent, and while some 
of them diverted the attention of his servant, others 
stole his stove with all the pipe attached to it, the 
fire in it burning all the while, all his kettles and 
pans on it, and his supper cooking in them. They 
gave operatic concerts, theatrical performances, mock 
trials, sham fights, exhibitions of gymnastics and 
feats of legerdemain, were proficients in negro min- 
strelsy, gave medical lectures, and conducted relig- 
ious services — in short, there was no performance 
to which the}^ were not equal. 

As soon as we had recovered from the laughter 
raised at the expense of the counterfeit chaplain, I 
asked to be shown to the regimental hospital. 

" Haven't got am^ ! " was the answer in chorus. 

"Why, what do you do with your sick men?" I 
inquired. 

"Don't have any!" was the reply, again in chorus. 
And indeed they rarely had sickness in their camp. 
They were fortunate in the men to begin with, who 
were strong, not too young, and mostly married. 
Then almost all had resources in themselves, thanks 
to their mental ability and early training. They had 
an inducement in their families to- take care of them- 
selves, and good influences were exerted over them 
by the letters of wives and mothers. Their officers 
were men of intelligence, who knew how to take care 
of their men, had become attached to their commands, 
were humane and not drunken. They had lost heav- 
ily at the battle of Chickasaw Bluff's, their colonel 
being left among the dead. But when it came to 



a:n^ exciting night. 333 

sickness, they. hooted at the idea. The regiments in 
their neighborhood were a Uttle afraid of them, I 
found; they were so hearty and roistering, and so 
full of mad pranks. After dining with the adjutant, 
I left them, not quite satisfied with my visit, because, 
as that worthy explained, " I had unfortunately found 
them all well instead of sick." 

On the way back I passed black Socrates, still 
ploughing through the mud, but evidently reconciled 
to the " mighty meanness " of his mules, as he was 
sitting aloft on the driver's seat, shouting in a sing- 
song recitative, — 

" An' I hope to gain de prommis' Ian', 

Glory, hallelujah ! 
Lor', I hope to gain de prommis' Ian', 

Dat I do ! 
Glory, glory, how I lub my Savior, 

Dat I do ! " 

When I reached the sanitary boat Omaha, I found 
that a portion of our delegation, and some of the 
supplies, had been transferred to the Fanny Ogden, 
destined for a point up the river a few miles, where 
there were sick men in great destitution. I went on 
board the boat with them. But after dark we 
steamed down the river, below the point where a 
canal was being cut by Colonel Bissell's Engineer 
Corps, which, it was hoped, would divert the main 
current of the Mississippi, and leave Vicksburg on a 
bayou two or three miles inland. Backwards and 
forwards, up the river and down the river, the little 
boat darted most of the night, carrying orders and 
despatches for General Grant. Most of the time we 
were within range of the enemy's guns, which kept 
up an incessant firing of shot and shell at the dredg- 



334 PLANTING A BATTERY. 

ing boats in the canal, whose locomotive headlights 
furnished an admirable mark. 

We sat on deck through the night, watching the 
shells as they flew shrieking ovei* our heads, which 
we could distinguish by the lighted fuse, and en- 
deavoring to judge the size of the shot by the sing- 
ing, howling, whizzing, or shrieking they made in 
their swift transit through the air. The Fanny 
Ogden did not go up the river at all, but returned 
to the landing by morning, out of the reach of the 
enemy's guns, where she lay until night. We were 
again informed she was bound up stream, again em- 
barked on her, only to pass the second night like the 
first, steaming up and down the river, cai-rying Gen- 
eral Grant's despatches. 

During the day, a detachment of the Engineer 
Corps was sent down inside the levee, to plant a 
battery at the extreme point of land directly opposite 
Vicksburg, Avhere the Mississippi is very narrow and 
deep. The levee at this place was nearly fifteen feet 
high, and the battery was to be built into the levee 
from the inside. Its object was to destroy the 
foundries and railroad and machine shops of Vicks- 
burg, lying near the river, and which were in great 
activity day and night. The prospecting for the 
position of the battery, and the planning and mark- 
ing out of the work, had been done in the night, not 
to attract the attention of the enemy. ^NTow they 
were to work wholly inside the levee, and so were 
busy in the daytime. 

Colonel Bissell himself was in command, and I 
accepted his invitation to accompany the squad, and 
take a nearer view of Vicksburg than it was possible 
to gain elsewhere. We steamed down near the 



A PEEP INTO VICKSBURG. 335 

mouth of the canal, took a rowboat through one of 
the creeks to the point of land opposite the city, and* 
then walked behind the levee. While the men were 
working like Titans, the Colonel loaned me a power- 
ful field-glass, and found for me a position where I 
could look over into the beleaguered city, without 
being seen by their pickets. Here the river was so 
very narrow that the pickets of the two armies 
could carry on convei'sation, when all was still — as 
they sometimes did. 

At the right was the hospital, swarming with gray- 
uniformed Confederates. They were sitting in the 
windows, at the doors, on the piazzas, lying on the 
grass in the yard, coming and going, some on 
crutches, some led by assistants. A newsboy was 
selling papers among them, and I could distinguish 
between the large type of the headings and the 
smaller print of the columns. In the belfry of the 
court house, more than half-way up the hill, an offi- 
cer was signaling with flags, of which he seemed to 
have an immense variety. Beside him stood two 
ladies, one wrapped in a cloak, and the other in a 
shawl. I could even see that the bonnet of one was 
blue in color. Two negresses, carrying baskets on 
their heads, which looked as if filled with clean 
clothes, set down their baskets, bowed and courte- 
sied to one another, and then, with arms akimbo, 
stood and gossiped, laughing convulsively, if one 
could judge from the motions and gesticulations. 
Gray guards were pacing back and forth before the 
foundries. Officers were galloping to and fro ; trains 
of freight cars were being loaded; new batteries 
were being placed in position; and other scenes of 
warlike activity were apparent. But nothing was 



336 RAMS RUN" THE BATTERIES. 

visible that betokened pleasure or social life, or such 
proceedings as occupy the people of a city in time 
of peace. 'No children were on the streets, no 
women walking or shopping, no gay equipages, no 
sign of inhabited homes. 

During the day I learned that the gunboats Lan- 
caster and Switzerland were to run the Vicksburg 
batteries during the night, to co-operate with 
Admiral Farragut. He had steamed up the river 
from New Orleans, had fought his way past Fort 
Hudson, and was now moored nearly opposite the 
canal before spoken of, but on the other side of the 
bend, below Yicksburg. The Mississippi River was 
now open its entire length, save here at Yicksburg. 
The gunboats did not get started as soon as they 
were ordered, and it was daydawn before they came 
under the rebel fire. They were both rams; one, the 
Lancaster, being of wood, and every way frailer than 
its consort, the Switzerland. 

As they rounded the peninsula, from which the 
trees had been cut, a signal rocket was sent up by 
the enemy, and then the heavy guns opened their 
iron throats and belched thunder and fire. All along 
the river bank, below, and above, flames seemed to 
leap out of the ground, as if the very bottomless pit 
had been uncapped, and then the earth and the 
water shook with the roar of the batteries. Louder 
and faster bellowed the cannon, and the whole oppo- 
site hillside seemed on fire. But on went the rams, 
not a living thing being visible about them, seeming 
to bear charmed lives, that could not be wrecked by 
shot or shell. " They will get by in safety! " we said, 
as we watched them through the portholes of the 
gunboat Lafayette, which hugged the west shore of 



0N:E sunk THE OTHER DISABLED. 337 

the river: "Another quarter of an hour, and they 
are safe ! " 

Vain prediction! There came a phmging shot — a 
rush of steam — an ex^jlosion — the air was full of 
cinders and splinters, and then men could be seen 
leaping into the water, swimming and struggling for 
life. A shot from one of the uj)per batteries had ex- 
ploded the boiler of the Lancaster, and then a shell, 
bursting in another part of the boat, completel}'- 
wrecked her. The Confederate batteries continued 
to pour in upon her a tremendous fire. She was 
struck thirty times. Her entire bow was shot away, 
causing her to take water so rapidly that she sank 
almost instantly, turning a complete somersault as 
she went down. 

The Switzerland was more fortunate, but was 
finally disabled by a sixty-pound ball penetrating 
her steam drum. She floated below Vicksburg, the 
batteries still keeping up their terrible fire upon her, 
and striking her repeatedly. At last, the Albatross, 
from Admiral Farragut's fleet, which had come up 
from 'New Orleans, steamed to her relief, fastened 
to her, and towed her to the lower mouth of the 
canal, where she lay helpless. 

Those who were watching the contest, when the 
Lancaster was wrecked, and who knew the current 
of the river, climbed over the embankment of the 
Vicksburg and Shreveport Kailroad, and threw out 
planks and limbs of trees, and aught else that the 
swimmers could seize, around whom, as they strug- 
gled in the water, the shot and shell were flying like 
hail. One after another they were drawn to land, 
some of them scalded, and all exhausted. As the 
engineer of the Lancaster clutched the hand of a 

21 



338 DEATH OF THE ENGINEER. 

man who drew him from the water, the skin of the 
scalded hand came off in that of his helper, almost 
as if it were a glove. It retained the creases of the 
knuckles, and the nails of the fingers. The poor 
fellow was scalded horribly, but as he stepped on 
shore he drew his revolver, and, turning upon his 
comrades, exclaimed : " Where's that coward that 
talked of surrendering? I'll shoot him before I die! " 
and discovering the man, who had said just before 
the explosion of the boiler, " It's of no use, we shall 
have to surrender!" he rushed upon him, and would 
have harmed him but for the bystanders. 

The poor fellow, with one other as badly scalded, 
and several in less distress, was taken to the hospital, 
where he died that afternoon. I went over to see 
him, but he was free from pain and needed nothing, 
sinking rapidly away. He had no fear of death, and 
expressed regret only for one thing, that his boat, the 
Lancaster, had not run the batteries as well as the 
Switzerland, which got past the guns, and joined 
Farragut, although badly cut up. " But," he added, 
"I did my duty and never talked of surrendering. 
And I thank God I have no mother, wife, nor child 
to mourn for me." And so did I. " You may say a 
prayer for me," he said faintly ; " a short one, for it's 
almost over." And the brave man's spirit went up, 
on the breath of the short, but heartfelt petition 
that was made for him. 



CHAPTER XYI. 

COMING UP THE RIVER — A FREIGHT OF LIVING MISERY — 
GOING OUT FROM THE LAND OF BONDAGE — AMONG SICK 
SOLDIERS, CONTRABANDS AND REFUGEES. 

A forward Movement — Gunboats run the Vicksburg Batteries — They con- 
voy Transports down the River — Troops cross, and beleaguer Vicksburg 

— We take Passage in the Maria Denning for Cairo — Tlie Boat packed 
with human and animal Misery — Sick Soldiers comforted by our Pres- 
ence — Johnny, the Virginia Refugee, given to my Care — His History 

— The tempestuous "Praise-meetings" of the Contrabands tabooed — 
Refugees encamped on the River Bank — Signal the Boat to stop — The 
Captain dares not — Fears Treachery — Meet Ford Douglas at Lake 
Providence — Agree to take a slave Boy to Chicago, despite Illinois 
"Black Laws." 

^T was the last week of April, 1863, when, 
having finished the work we were sent to 
do, we turned our faces homeward. There 
was no longer any need of our remaining 
" down the river." The troops at Lake 
Providence, and those sent to " flank the Mis- 
sissippi" by the way of Yazoo Pass and Steele's 
Bayou, under Generals Sherman and McPherson, 
were brought down to Milliken's Bend. By the 
complete breaking up of all the hospitals, and the 
removing of all the sick to the !N^orth, as well as from 
the general note of preparation in the camp and 
among the fleet of gunboats, we understood that a 

339 




340 A FORWARD MOVEMENT. 

" forward movement " of some kind was resolved on. 
We were not left to conjecture what it might be. 

We were told frankly, by one of the officers, of the 
new line of operations marked out by General Grant. 
Vicksburg was to be assailed from the east; and the 
ironclads and gunboats, with the transports, were to 
run the batteries, and convey the army across the 
river at a point farther down. The Thirteenth Corps 
had already left Milliken's Bend, and marched down 
the west bank of the Mississippi. They were to be 
ready to cross in the transports when they should 
have run the gauntlet of the terrible batteries, and 
got safely below the defiant stronghold. So we now 
took passage in the Maria Denning, and prepared 
for our slow trip up the river. 

While our boat was taking its heterogeneous 
freight on board, the last gunboat of the expedition 
returned, which had been seeking a way to the rear 
of the defences of Yicksburg via Yazoo Pass, on the 
east side of the Mississippi. Busy as everybody was, 
on land and on river, and hlase as the soldiers had 
become with continued excitement and adventure, the 
return of this gunboat created a decided sensation. 
It had been navigating narrow, tortuous streams, 
which, at that stage of high water, had a headlong 
current, bearing them through gigantic forests, which 
overarched and interlaced, sweeping away smoke- 
stacks, and scraping the deck clean of pilot-house 
and every other standing fixture. 

Abrupt turns at almost every boat's length of the 
way down the Coldwater and Tallahatchie Rivers had 
broken her bow and damaged her sides, while snags 
and follen trees, and now and then getting aground, 
had injured the rndder and wheels. They had been 



THE MARIA DENNUSTG. 341 

halted at Greenwood, on the Tallahatchie, where the 
rebels had erected defences, and, with the aid of 
rifled Whitworth guns, had compelled the expedition 
to return to the Mississippi by the same way it had 
come. Some of the men had been killed; several 
were badly wounded, and were brought on board our 
boat to be taken to the Memphis hospitals. All were 
exhausted by the protracted and excessive work, per- 
formed on half and quarter rations. And yet all 
wanted to go forward with the new movement of the 
forces to the east of Vicksburg. The wounded 
brought on board the Maria Denning loudly lamented 
their hard fate in being sent to the hosj^itals "just 
when something was going to be done." 

The Maria Denning was an uncouth and lumbering 
three-decker, if so definite and dignified a name may 
be applied to a nondescript river-boat. It was three 
stories high, each of the upper two stories being more 
contracted in dimensions than the one immediately 
beneath it. The lowest deck, or story, was open, not 
enclosed, and was devoted to the transportation of 
condemned government mules and horses, sent to St. 
Louis for sale. The second story was occupied by 
contrabands who had come from the plantations 
within the lines of our army, and who, like the mules 
and horses, were bound for St. Louis. Here, also, 
were sick and wounded soldiers, going home on fur- 
lough or discharge. The third story was for the 
accommodation of the ofiicers of the boat and pas- 
sengers. 

The dumb animals were driven from their corral, 
some three or four hundred of them, with a vast deal 
of whooping, shouting, and wild driving. They ran 
in every direction but the one in which they ought, 



342 ILL-USED MULES AND NEGROES. 

and at every turn were met by fresh outbursts of 
shouts and yells and frantic gesticulations. For 
soldiers seemed to spring out of the ground, who 
joined in the unfeeling sport, until the poor, jaded, 
worn-out beasts were mad with fright. It was half 
a day before any of them were got on board. And 
several of them, in their terror, ran into an immense 
slough, sank slowly in the mire with but feeble strug- 
gle, and died before our eyes. 

" When this war is over," said Mrs. Governor 
Harvey, of Wisconsin, who passed three years of the 
war in the hospitals, and at the front, in devoted labor 
for the soldiers, " I never want to see again a negro 
or a mule. Both of them are so abused in the army, 
and both are so dumbly patient, and uncomplaining, 
and receive so little sympathy, that I suffer a perpet- 
ual heartache on their .account." To express pity 
for, or interest in, a suffering mule, or to interpose 
entreaties on its behalf, was to run the gauntlet of 
the most stinging ridicule. Everybody beat and 
neglected the unhandsome brutes; and when they 
fell into the hands of the ill-treated negroes, they 
fared worse than ever. From their own persecution 
and abuse, they seemed to have learned only lessons 
of brutality and tyranny, when they became mule- 
drivers. 

As the half-imbruted contrabands came on board, 
under military surveillance, clad in the tattered gray 
and black " nigger cloth," and shod with the clouted 
brogans of the plantation, my heart went out to them. 
Subdued, impassive, solemn, hope and courage now 
and then lighting up their sable faces, they were 
a most interesting study. Mothers carried their 
piquant-faced babies on one arm, and led little 



«H|^'^v'i;«^ ;--.,■. ^-^a^<:?L.^ iafc**%-nfc*i»&>' , 





342 ILL-USED MULES AND NEGROES. 

■ ; ! oiiiDursts ol 

^. .. viiations. For 

of the ground, who 

iintii the poor, jaded, 

ig"ht. It was half 

i on board. And 

> into an nnmense 

. !j, sank lit feeble strug- 

j^ie, and d' our eyi 

""Wb--! i;*'.a war is over,' saia Ji.b. OrovernoT 
XL;: vcv. of Wisconsin, who passed three years of th»' 
wuj' 111 the hospitals, and at the front, in devoted labor 
for the soldiers, " I never want to see again a negro 
or a mule. Both of them are so abused in the armV; 
and bom are so dumbly patient, and uncomplaining, 
and receive so little sympathy, that I suffer a pei-pet- 
ual heartache on their ^account." To express pity 
I'jv, ov interest in, a suffering mule, or to interpose 
iies on ' ' " ". was to run the gauntlet of 
-■^ -'■ ■■' ^' ^-'.dy beat and 

nv !id when the\ 

<-i! ii, ' negroes, they 

fared ^n persecution 

;i:.d a])i;> . .ri: > s^.m. d only lessons 

<:' ]>ni(a1il ^' ;)n."! t-. ' Ix-caine innlc- 

ands came on board, 

I in the tattered gr;' . 

-'' 'd with the clouted 

hi- . went out to them. 



Su 


i jussive, SO! 


i courage now 


ni';- 


ituig up the 


faces, they were 


a ; 


'•' ■ study. 


.>KMiiers carried their 


pif • 


> on 


one arm. and led !:t*^'- 



1^ 







THE IMPASSIVE, SOLEMN OONTKABANDS. 345 

woolly-headed toddlers by the other. Old men and 
women, gray, nearly blind, some of them bent almost 
double, bore on their heads and backs the small 
"plunder" they had "toted" from their homes, on 
the plantation, or the " bread and meat " furnished 
them by some friendly authorities. They were all 
going forth, like the Israelites, " from the land of 
bondage to a land they knew not." 

Like the Hebrews, they trusted implicitly in God 
10 guide them, and their common speech, as we spoke 
with them, had an Old Testament flavor. JSTever 
before had I witnessed so impressive a spectacle. 
There were between three and four hundred of 
them. Half of the middle deck of the huge boat 
was assigned them, into which they filed, and be- 
gan to arrange themselves in families and neighbor- 
hood groups. 

The other half of this deck was used by sick and 
wounded soldiers, who were brought on board in 
great numbers. They were either furloughed or dis- 
charged. Some of them were brought on stretchers, 
and a comrade was detailed to accompany them, and 
assist them in their long journey. Others swung 
themselves painfully on crutches, or were led between 
their comrades, frequently falling from weakness ; or 
they crept feebly and haltingly on board, without 
assistance. 

We stationed ourselves — the women of the com- 
pany — in this compartment of the boat, which we 
saw was going to be packed with misery and suffer- 
ing. As the soldiers were brought in, we fell into 
maternal relations with them, as women instinctively 
do when brought into juxtaposition with weakness, 
and were soon addressing them individually as " my 



346 BEGIN WORK AMON^G THE SICK. 

son,'- " my boy," or " my child." They were all 
greatly comforted to learn that we were gomg up 
the river with them. Those who had had fears of 
dying before they reached their homes, grew cour- 
ageous and hopeful, as we assured them that we were 
going to take care of them. Before the boat started 
we were at work, — making tea for one, filling a can- 
teen with fresh water for a second, bathing the soiled 
face and hands of a third, sewing up rents in the 
garments of a fourth, preparing hot applications for 
the cure of earache for a fifth, and beseeching our 
one, physician on board to prepare immediately a 
cough mixture for the whole compan}^, who were 
coughing in deafening chorus, but in the most in- 
conceivable dissonance. The contrabands were also 
coughing with might and main, and there were times 
when this violent and irritating lung exercise was so 
general, that conversation was as impossible as in the 
midst of a brisk artillery fire. 

Among the soldiers was one delicate boy of fifteen 
— tall, slender, and frail. A chaplain accompanied 
him, and gave me his history. He was the onl}^ child 
of a wealthy Virginian, living near Petersburg, who 
remained loyal to the old flag, and voted against 
secession. When Virginia went out of the Union, 
he was so fierce in his denunciation of its treason, 
so active in his hostility to the new-fangled Confed- 
eracy, that he was arrested and sent to Libby Prison. 
" Johnny," the son, sympathized with his father, and 
after his arrest was more passionate and terrible in 
his outspoken scorn and hate of the treachery of his 
native state, than his father had dared to be. 

Only the fact of his being a mere boy saved him 
from his father's fate, or perhaps from assassination. 



"refugee" jon:NnsrY. 347 

As it was, the overseer of one of his father's planta- 
tions, who loved the boy, secreted him for a few days ; 
for he had awakened such enmity towards himself, 
that on one or two occasions he had been attacked 
in the streets of Petersburg by a mob of boys of his 
own age, and beaten half to death. The overseer 
got him safely beyond the rebel lines, and gave him 
a horse and two hundred dollars in gold, with the 
name and residence of one of his father's brothers, 
living somewhere in Missouri. He had also furnished 
him with a letter of instruction as to the route he 
was to take to reach his uncle. 

Johnny got on very well as far as Louisville, Ky. 
There he fell sick, and, when he recovered, found 
himself in the " Refugees' Camp," his money gone, 
his horse missing; even his letter of instruction had 
been stolen. Strolling around, he came upon the 
encampment of one of our regiments, into which he 
was absorbed, notwithstanding his boyishness and 
feebleness, and where he remained nearly a year. 
He became the pet of the regiment, any of his 
comrades being always ready to relieve Johnny of 
any severe duty or rough work which fell to his lot, 
or to share with him any delicacy or pleasure. He 
was of the genuine metal, however, and asked no 
favors, until the regiment came to live an amphibious 
life at Young's Point. Then he succumbed to 
swamp fever, and, after lying at the point of death 
for days, had recovered partially. Thinking it sui- 
cidal for the boy to remain in the army, young and 
delicate as he was, one of the chaplains had procured 
his discharge, and brought him on board the boat, 
with transportation to St. Louis. 

My heart went out to the poor child immediately. 



348 THE CAPTAIN GRANTS MY PETITION. 

He had never known his mother, as she had died at 
his birth; but of his father he spoke with eloquent 
and tearful affection. He was wholly unfitted to 
search for his uncle; and knowing, as he did not, 
what a complete overturning the war had made in 
Missouri, I proposed to him to go home with me, and 
stay until he became strong, when I would help him 
seek his relative, of whom he knew nothing save his 
name and address. The lad put his thin, tremulous 
hand in mine, lifted his large brown eyes to my face, 
and tried to say " Yes." But his lips moved only, 
without emitting any sound, and then he broke down 
in tearless sobs. 

. I hunted up the captain, and made friends with 
him, although he was a coarse, whiskey-drinking 
man, for I had a favor to ask of him. After some 
fifteen minutes of good-natured palaver, in which I 
played the role of the amiable woman to the utmost, I 
obtained permission to take Johnny into the upper 
saloon among the passengers, and also two or three 
others of the soldiers, who were very ill. They could 
be made more comfortable there than in the middle 
compartment of the boat, to which they were as- 
signed, and I could more easily nurse them. 

At last, after two or three days' delay, we started. 
It was a tedious journey home. We were imi)a- 
tient; for we had finished our work, and had been 
a long time from our families, who were eagerly 
looking for our return. The j^assengers, with whom 
we were closely shut up most of the time — for the 
weather had turned cold and stormy — were coarse, 
ruffianly, brutal fellows, with one or two exceptions. 
They smoked, che^yed tobacco incessantly, and ex- 
pectorated in so reckless a way as to make it danger- 



SIGNALLED BY PEOPLE ON SHORE. 349 

Otis to sit in their vicinity. Gambling, smoking, 
swearing, and berating the Union and its friends, 
were their unvaried pastimes. 

The Maria Denning was a slow sailer, and puffed 
and snorted up the river against the rapid, headlong 
current at a snail's pace, compared Avith the speed at 
which we had descended the Mississippi. A terrific 
gale drove us against the east bank of the river, 
which was skirted with cottonwood trees, heavily 
shrouded from their roots to the topmost branches 
with the funereal moss which is a parasite, upon them. 
Here we remained immovable nearly twenty-four 
hours-; not without anxiety, for we were in the en- 
emy's country, and boats in similar stress had been 
burned by the rebels only a few days before, and 
their crews and passengers murdered or taken jiris- 
oners. 

;N"ow and then, as we kept the middle of the 
stream, still at a very high stage of water, we would 
be signalled by people on the banks, where was no 
sign of habitable life. With waving of white flags, 
and passionate gestures of entreaty, they begged us 
to take them on board. An inspection of them 
through the field-glass aroused our captain's suspi- 
cion, and, fearing a 7mse to decoy us ashore to our 
own destruction, we went on our way, and left them 
behind. 

One afternoon, as the sunset was deepening into 
twilight, we made a bend in the river, when we re- 
ceived a momentary fright from a huge fire blazing 
red, straight before us, close at the water's edge'. A 
great crowd was hovering about it, waving flags, 
gesticulating, and signalling us. As we came nearer, 
we found they were negroes, of all sizes, and had 



350 MOKE SOLDIERS, CONTRABANDS, AND MULES. 

their little bundles in their hands or on their heads 
and backs. 

The captain dared not, or would not, stop. As the 
poor creatures saw us steaming directly by, they 
redoubled their exertions to attract our attention. 
Catching up blazing firebrands, they ran up the 
shore with them, waved them, threw them in air, and 
with the most frantic pantomime sought to convey to 
us a sense of their eagerness to be taken aboard. It 
seemed pitiful not to stop for them. They had made 
their way to the rivei-, not doubting, probably, but 
any of " Massa Linkum's " boats would take them on 
board. Doubtless they had signalled other boats 
ahead of us; and still they were left on the river 
banks, amid the gray moss-draped cottonwoods, as 
far from the land of freedom as ever. 

At MilHken's Bend another detachment of broken- 
down mules was received on the lower deck, but 
without the brutality attending the reception of the 
first lot. Our contrabands were increased by the 
addition of fifty or a hundred more; and a score or 
two of soldiers were taken aboard, all a little under 
the weather, going home on brief leave of absence, 
or permanently discharged from the service. One 
who undertook to come on the boat slipped, in his 
weakness, as he came up the plank, and his crutch 
flew out from his grasp into the river. He tried to 
catch it, lost his balance, and tumbled head foremost 
into the turbid, whirling stream. Once he came to 
the surface on the other side of the boat, whither he 
was carried by the current. Ropes, chains, and 
planks were thrown him, but he sank, and we saw 
him no more. Who he was, what was his name, 
where was his home, what was his regiment, no one 



FORD DOUGLAS. 351 

could tell us. Perhaps father and mother looked and 
longed vainly for his coming, until hope died out in 
despair. To all their inquiries they could only learn 
the one fact, that he started for home, and could be 
traced no farther. " Missing " was his only record. 

At Lake Providence we stopped to take on cotton. 
Very little of the cotton on the deserted Providence 
plantations had been gathered; and the government 
let the job to contractors, who picked it on halves, 
delivering it in bales to the government. The con- 
tractors paid the negroes a penny a pound for pick- 
ing, and the government furnished them rations. A 
large quantity being ready for transportation JS^orth, 
the Maria Denning agreed to carry it. 

As I was standing on the upper deck, watching 
the negroes roll the bales up the plank, I espied 
in the crowd below Ford Douglas, a well-known 
colored man of Chicago, who had no inconsid- 
erable local reputation as an anti-slavery lecturer. 
Like his great namesake, he was born in slavery, 
had run away from his master, and concealed 
his own name, assuming one which he liked 
better. Although prejudice against the black race , 
was then at its highest pitch at the !N^orth, and espe- 
cially in Illinois, and the offers of colored men to 
enlist in the service of the country were refused with 
scorn. Ford Douglas was enlisted in the Kinety- 
iifth Illinois, where his virtues, talents, and, above all, 
his fier}^ eloquence, gave him w^elcome. He was 
fraternized with as if he were a white man. Every- 
body respected him. 

He uttered a little cry of joy as he saw me, ac- 
companying his salute with a gesture of delight. 
We had known each other for some years, and he ^ 



352 THE BLACK LAWS OF ILLINOIS. 

rushed on board to meet me. Grasping my hand 
warmly, he said : " The Lord has sent you this time, 
sure ! I have been praying that He would send along 
somebody that I could trust; but I little thought He 
would answer by sending you. You will not refuse 
to do me a great favor? " 

" Certainly not, Ford; you know that without 
asking." 

" I have in my tent a little colored boy, six or 
eight years old, a slave child whom I have stolen. 
His mother was a slave living near N^ew Orleans, but 
before the war she escaped to Chicago. Will you 
take the boy to his mother? " 

" It will not be safe, Mrs. Livermore," immediately 
interposed one of our company, a member of the 
Illinois Legislature. " You will run great risk in 
undertaking to cari'y a negro boy through Illinois." 

The infamous " Black Laws " of Illinois were then 
in force, and any one who took a negro into the state 
was liable, under these statutes, to heavy fine and 
imprisonment. Under the stimulus of a most sense- 
less and rabid negi-ophobia, then at fever heat, the 
provost-marshal at Cairo searched every Korthern- 
bound train for negroes, as well as deserters. When- 
ever they were found, they were arrested ; the former 
were sent to the contraband camp, an abandoned, 
comfortless, God-forsaken place, and the latter to 
the guard-house. 

" You cannot escape detection if you try to run 
this boy through Cairo," said the surgeon of our 
party. " You had better let the child alone." 

I knew both of these objectors thoroughly. They 
felt it to be their duty to warn me of the risk I was 
inclined to run, and were unwilling that I should get 



THE SLAVE BOY's HISTORY. 353 

into trouble. But they were the most reliable of 
anti-slavery men, and, when their feelings were 
touched, would run any gauntlet of danger to serve 
a distressed human creature. So I turned to Mr. 
Douglas, and pressing his arm significantly, to 
secure his silence, I replied, " Well, never mind 
about your slave boy. Ford, let me know what you 
are doing down here. Come to the after part of the 
boat, out of the way of this noise, where I can talk 
with you." And we went aside by ourselves, where 
I learned the little black boy's history. 

]S'ot long before the war, the boy's mother, then a 
slave on a Louisiana plantation, accompanied her 
mastei' and mistress to Newport, R. I., leaving her 
only child behind her, a guaranty, in the opinion of 
her owners, that she would return. But the slave 
mother, following the example of several of her rela- 
tives, found her way to Chicago on the " under- 
ground railroad." After she had obtained her well- 
earned freedom, she made persistent efforts to get 
possession of her child, but without success. Once 
her uncle, himself a runaway slave, and from the 
same neighborhood, went down to the vicinity of 
the plantation to hunt for the lad. But after lurk- 
ing around for weeks, and almost securing him, he 
I'eturned without him. 

When Mr. Douglas' regiment was ordered South, 
to Lake Providence, the mother begged him to 
search for her boy, and, if he was found, to forward 
him to her. Ford obtained leave of absence from 
his regiment, went directly to the plantation, found 
the child, and brought him away with him. For six 
weeks the boy had been concealed in his tent, and 
he had been watching an opportunity to send him to 



354 BROUGHT ON BOARD THE BOAT. 

Chicago. The opportunity had now arrived. Clad 
in plantation clothes, the lad was stealthily brought 
on board the Maria Denning, and placed among the 
other contrabands, whom he resembled in appear- 
ance, in the j^^^tois he spoke, the rough clothing he 
wore, and in manners. The colored stewardess, a 
woman of elephantine proportions, whose heart must 
have been as big as her body, judging from her 
devotion to the forlorn people of her own color, took 
my protege under her special care. She fed him 
bountifully whenever he was willing to eat, which 
was about every hour of the twenty-four. 

More sick soldiers were brought on board, and 
given to our care. One, on a stretcher, was so very 
low, that I ordered him carried immediately to the 
upper saloon, and deposited beside my stateroom, 
where I could attend him night and day. Then we 
stai'ted again, after twenty-four hours delay at Lake 
Providence. 

What a freight of living misery our boat bore up 
the river! I ventured once to the lower deck, given 
up to the horses and mules. Some had slipped their 
halters, and, in consequence of weakness, had fallen 
under the feet of others, where they were stamped to 
death. It was a horrible sight, which I wished I had 
not seen. In the middle compartment of the boat 
were the contrabands, always in great activity, in 
consequence of the large number of children among 
them. I could only think of a vast nest of angle- 
worms, wriggling and twisting, when I went among 
them. When they were awake, they were either 
cooking, or eating, or holding " praise-meetings." 
It would be difficult to say which they most enjoyed. 

The " praise-meeting " was the usual occupation of 



"praise-meetings" prohibited. 355 

the evening. Then they sang and prayed until their 
enthusiasm became tempestuous. They beat time 
with their feet, they whirled in dizzy gyrations, or 
vented their effervescence of spirit in quick convul- 
sive leaps from the floor, accompanied by ear-splitting 
shouts. 

The sick soldiers, who shared one half of the mid- 
dle compartment, dreaded these " praise-meetings " 
inexpressibly. The poor fellows were so feeble that 
they had neither strength nor nerve to endure the 
intolerable din, and it became necessary at last to 
interfere with the negroes, and to prohibit the meet- 
ings altogether, since, once begun, they could not be 
kept within bounds. 

One of our sick men died before we reached Mem- 
phis. Like most men in his circumstances, he was 
possessed with but one desire — to see his home once 
more — but it was apparent from the first that he 
would be buried on the way. In his delirium he 
babbled incessantly of home and its occupations. 
" Harness the horses to the reaper, and we will start 
out for that twenty-acre piece of wheat! " "We are 
all going to the picnic to-morrow, so get your basket 
ready. Sis ! " 

Sometimes in his lucid moments he would please 
himself by instituting comparisons between his 
mother and myself. "You -have just her eyes, and 
her hair, and her way of talking and doing; and if 
I didn't look, I should think she was here ! " I rarely 
rendered any service to these poor fellows that they 
did not assure me that I was like their mother, or 
wife, or sister. 

22 



CHAPTER XYII. 



THE STORY OF THREE LITTLE ORPHANS — SMUGGLING A 
PLANTATION WAIF THROUGH "EGYPT" — THE UNDER- 
GROUND RAILROAD— SAFE AT LAST — AFFECTING MEET- 
ING. 

We find three Orphan Refugees in Camp Convalescent, Fort Pickering — 
Their pitiful History — We take them to the Chicago Home of the 
Friendless — Adopted by an Iowa Family — Cairo makes Addition to our 
Cares — Lizzie the Orj^han Refugee from Missouri — Go aboard the 
Chicago Sleeper, with Johnny and the black Lad — The stuttering 
Porter hides the black Boy — " D-d-d-dat Woman's slep' mighty little 
fo' mos' s-s-s-six AVeeks — She's d-d-d-done got monst'ous sick" — We 
defy " Egypt" and the " Black Laws " — Reach Chicago at Midnight — 
Sunday Morning, hunt up tlie black Lad's Mother — Affecting Meeting 
— Sarah Morris tells her Story — Johnny and Lizzie cared for. 

T Fort Pickering, two miles below Memphis, 
there was a convalescent camp, and, while 
the boat stopped for coal, we went ashore 
to pay it a brief visit. In one of the tents 
we found three dark-haired, dark-ejed little 
girls, whose ages ranged from two to nine 
years. They seemed perfectly at home, climbing 
upon the knees of the four convalescent soldiers 
assigned to the tent, ransacking their pockets for 
jack-knives, pencils, and other like treasures which 
the soldiers stowed in them for the use of the chil- 
dren. And with juvenile restlessness they rushed 
from one employment to another, asking the aid of 

356 




THREE LITTLE ORPHAJS^ REFUGEES. 357 

their military companions, with a confidence that 
showed they were not often repulsed. Whose chil- 
dren were these tangle-haired, bare-footed, unkempt, 
raofi^ed little urchins? The soldiers told us. 

Their father was a Union man of Memphis, and 
lost his life before our troops took possession of the 
city. Their mother, with these three children, the 
youngest then an infant in arms, came within our 
lines for protection, and made herself useful in the 
officers' quarters by washing, cooking, etc. Three 
months before, she had died fi'om exposure, hard 
work, and heartsickness. There was no one to take 
the children, and so the soldiers had gathered them 
into their tents, and taken as good care of them as 
they knew how. 

" But what's to become of them when you are 
ordered away?" we asked. 

The soldiers shook their heads. "Don't know; 
they ought to be taken care of, for they are good, 
bright little things! " was their reply. 

We could think of but one thing to do for them, 
and that was to take them to Chicago. But we were 
already burdened with as many dependants as we 
could take along at one time. While we were de- 
bating what to do — for to leave the children with so 
uncertain a futui'e, and no one responsible for them, 
was not to be thought of — the chaplain of the post 
came along, and we learned that his wife was with 
him on a brief visit, and was to return I^orth in a 
week. It was arranged that she should bring the 
children, and deliver them to my care in Chicago. 
This she did, and I took them to the " Chicago Home 
of the Friendless," of which institution I was a 
and advertised in the daily papers for a 



358 "you shan't tote away my baby!" 

home for them, giving a brief account of their history 
and appearance. After they were washed and dressed 
in decent apparel, they were very pretty and promising. 

An Iowa tradesman, from one of the growing in- 
land cities of his state, came to the Home with his 
wife, in quest of a baby for adoption. They had 
buried five infant children in eight years, and had 
decided to adopt an orphan child to fill the void in 
their bereaved and childless home. They selected 
the youngest of the three little refugees as the object 
of their parental affection. But when they prepared 
to take her away, a touching scene ensued. Jenny, 
the eldest sister, clasped the little one in her arms, 
and wildly and with tears protested. 

" Oh, no, no, no!" she cried; "you mustn't have 
my baby. I won't let you have her. You sha'n't 
tote her away! You sha'n't have my baby ! ]S"o, no, 
no! " and they clung wildly to each other, hugging 
each other with all their little might. 

The Iowa couple sought to compromise the matter 
by offering to take the middle sister. But to that 
Jenny also opposed tears and resistance. " ]^o, no, 
no ! " refused the child. " You sha'n't tote either of 
them away; they shall stay with me! " 

The more we sought to persuade the eldest sister, 
the more fiercely she clung to the little ones, who 
shrieked in terror, at they knew not what, until half 
the children in the house were screaming in sympa- 
thy. So I pacified the motherly little Jenny, telling 
her that nobody should take her " babies " away, — 
for so she called her sisters, — unless she said so, and 
dismissed the Iowa people. 

The next morning the gentleman and his wife 
came back, offering to take all three of the sisters^ 



THE IOWA COUPLE ADOPT ALL THREE. 359 

and adopt them as their own. They had lain awake 
all night, talking it over, and, as the lady expressed 
it, they had conclnded that God had emptied their 
hearts and home of their own children, to make room 
for these three orphans. We called Jenny and told 
her of the proposal. Half laughing and half cry- 
ing, she put her hand on her adopted mother's 
shoulder, and sobbed out the question, " Then won't 
you tote us all right away to-day, before anybody 
comes to take sister and baby?" 

Trembling with eagerness, delight, and fear lest 
something would yet intervene between them and 
their future home, she followed the two little ones 
into the carriage with the adopted jDarents, unwilling 
to go herself until the last, lest somebody should be 
left. In the last year of the war, the dear Jenny, 
who had grown close to the hearts of the adopted 
father and mother, died of scarlet fever. She was 
much the most promising of the three,, and, had she 
lived, would have developed into a womanhood of 
unusual excellence. 

At Cairo, where we left the boat and took the 
Illinois Central Railroad for Chicago, there w"as an- 
other accession to our cares. Dr. Taggart, the 
humane surgeon of the large General Hospital in 
Cairo, had picked up on the levee, some three months 
before, a girl of fourteen, whom he had first thought 
in a dying condition. She, too, was the daughter of 
Southern refugees. Her father was a Union man of 
southern Missouri, who was driven from his farm 
with his wife and two daughters. Escaping, with 
others, to St. Louis, he joined our troops, leaving 
his family behind him in the city, and was killed at 
Island JS^umber Ten. 



360 lizzie's history. 

Shortly after he left them, his wife and younger 
daughter died of typhoid fever, induced by improper 
food and water, neglect, hunger, cold and exposure. 
Then Lizzie, the elder daughter, not knowing that 
her father was dead, sought to find him. Aided by 
the kindness of officials, and chance friends who 
started up in her path, she reached his regiment 
on the island, only to learn that she was an orphan. 
]N^ot knowing where to go, she struggled back to 
Cairo. In the incessant rush and whirl of the 
then busy city, she was unnoticed, and left to live 
or die as might happen. For sixteen bitterly cold 
nights, she slept in outhouses, barns, underneath 
overturned boats, in sheds, or in any other place 
that offered shelter. Such food as she obtained, 
was given her at back doors, by servants, or by 
soldiers, who were continually crowding the levees. 
At last she succumbed to the hardships of her fate. 
Seeking an out-of-the-way corner, racked with pain, 
burning with fever, weak, sick, footsore, discouraged, 
she lay down to die, praying God for speedy release 
from suffering. 

Here, Dr. Taggart stumbled upon her, and, imme- 
diately ordering an ambulance, he took her to his 
hospital, and devoted himself to her cure. Poor 
Lizzie ahvays insisted that her mother came to her 
in her abandonment, and remained with her, only 
going back to heaven when her daughter was par- 
tially restored to health. Who can say that this was 
a mere sick-bed fancy? I^^ot I, and I never gainsaid 
the poor child's assertion. To whom should the an- 
gels of heaven minister, if not to the homeless and 
friendless little ones of earth? I had agreed to re- 
ceive her when she was able to go to Chicago, and 



THE STUTTERING PORTER. 361 

it was thought best that she should be taken along 
now, when I could attend to her in person. 

We bade adieu to the contrabands who were sfoinor 
to St. Louis, and to those of the sick men whose 
transportation papers took them by the same route. 
Then, taking the refugee boy, Johnny, by one hand, 
and Ford Douglas' charge, Ben Morris, the little 
slave boy, by the other, I walked directly to the train 
standing on the track. It was nearly midnight; 
the train was to start for Chicago at three in the 
morning, and the sleeping-car was then half full of 
sleeping passengers. Almost all our party had simi- 
lar responsibilities on their hands as myself; and 
those who had not, agreed to assist our sick and 
wounded soldiers to re-embark on the Chicago-bound 
train. Entering the sleeping-car, to my great joy, I 
found the same colored porter who had been in 
charge whenever I had journeyed to and from Cairo. 

He dropped the boots from which he was scraping 
deposits of Cairo mud, and gave me a glad welcome. 

" I g-g-g-got jes' one lower b-b-b-berth lef ' ! " he 
said. He was an inveterate stammerer. 

" But, Henry, does the provost-marshal come in 
now to search the train for negi'oes and deserters?" 
I asked. 

" Y-y-y-yes, jes' afore the t-t-t-train st-tarts;" and 
he glanced at the white boy on one side of me, and 
then at the colored boy on the other. So I gave him 
the boy's history, and asked him to help me hide the 
little fellow until we had safely passed through 
" Egypt," as the southern part of Illinois was called, 
and which at that time was aflame with intense hatred 
and persecution of negroes. He proposed at first 
that I should put the boy in the back of my berth, 



862 LITTLE ben's HIDLSTG- PLACE. 

iind cover him well with the blankets; but, as the 
child was swarming with vermin, I entreated him 
to think of some other plan. Looking under the 
berth, where was a large unoccupied space sufficient 
for a good-sized valise, for it was a sleeping-car of an 
old style, Henry said, — 

" A p-p-p-plantation nig like dis yere ch-ch-ch-chile 
can sleep anywhar! " and forthwith he stowed him 
away under my berth, where no provost marshal 
would ever think of searching for him. In a few 
moments I heard him snoring as nonchalantly as 
though there were no provost-marshals or negro- 
haters in existence. 

Henry was very uneasy when the provost-marshal 
came in to inspect the train ; for, by the " Black 
LaAvs " of Illinois, whoever assisted in bringing a 
negro into the State, was liable to a year's imprison- 
ment and a fine of one thousand dollars. So he 
walked up the aisle of the sleeper with the officer, 
past my berth, talking rapidly, asking needless ques- 
tions, and stuttering at a fearful rate. Meanwhile, 
the little fellow underneath the berth was snoring as 
loudly as though he was under a contract to furnish 
nasal music for the entii-e train. But his hiding- 
place was not suspected, and we reached Centralia at 
nine the next morning, no one having discovered this 
waif of the plantation, who was enjoying a free ride 
through the great State of Illinois, in utter defiance 
of its " Black Laws." 

It was arranged that I should not leave my berth 
until we reached Centralia, where we were to break- 
fast, and to change conductors, and where Henry 
left the train. The cars were crowded to overflow- 
ing, a lai-ge number of persons being obliged to 



HE JOURNEYS IN SAFETY TO CHICAGO. 363 

stand. As I occupied in my section the room that 
would accommodate four when seated, there was 
naturally a very urgent desire among the standing 
passengers that I should be compelled to get up. 

"Why don't you wake that woman up?" I heard 
one savagely inquire of Henry. "Is she going to 
lie abed all day?" 

" D-d-d-dat woman's bin down to t-t-t-take keer ob 
de s-s-s-sick sojers! " stuttered Henry. " S-s-s-she's 
slep' mighty little f-f-f-fo' mos' six weeks, an' she's 
d-d-d-done got monsVous sick ! L-1-l-let her sleep ! " 

Henry was right. I was " monst'ous sick," and 
for the next ten days I could hardly lift my head 
from the pillow. Every other member of the party 
had been sick down the river. I was the only one 
who had not had a touch of swamp fever, and I had 
boasted of my exemption. But my time had come. 
It would not do to give up until we reached 
Chicago, and I compelled my will to triumph over 
my aching, fevered body until I was again at home. 

At Centralia, I learned, from the wife of a Chicago 
physician, that the conductor who now took charge 
of our train had served a long apprenticeship on the 
" underground railroad," and so my black boy's 
perils were over. We reached Chicago at midnight 
on Saturday. Johnny and Lizzie went home with 
me, but the black lad was altogether too filthy to be 
taken into any decent house. One of the gentlemen 
left him in care of his barber until morning, and the 
little fellow dropped sound asleep on the floor, beside 
the stove, almost immediately. 

The next morning, about church time, we insti- 
tuted a search for the boy's mother. We only knew 
her name, and that she was a regular attendant at 



364 MEETING OF MOTHER AND CHILD. 

the African Baptist Church. To that church we 
wended our way, and in the vestibule met the sex- 
ton, to whom we told our errand. He proceeded to 
the pulpit and repeated the story to the minister. In 
his turn he rehearsed it to the congregation, and 
inquired if Sarah Morris, the boy's mother, was 
present. One of the assembly informed the minis- 
ter that the mother was a Methodist, and not a Bap- 
tist; and so we turned our steps to the Methodist 
church, where the same programme was followed, 
eliciting the information that Sarah Morris was uot 
at church, but lived at ]S"o. Avenue. 

We followed up our clew, accompanied by quite a 
procession that had joined us from both the Baptist 
and Methodist churches, and at last discovered the 
house where the mother lived as cook. She was not 
at home, however, but was sitting with a sick friend 
that day, and very confused directions to the house 
of the friend were given us, which we proceeded to 
follow. At last Sarah Morris was found. As the 
door was opened to us, we saw some eight or ten 
colored men and women sitting within, and, as my 
eye ran over the group, I recognized the mother, 
from her resemblance to her son. Before one word 
was spoken, she threw herself upon her boy with a 
joyful shriek of recognition, the child rushing towards 
her half-way, as if by filial instinct, and they wept in 
each other's arms, nncontrollably. In kisses and 
claspings, and endearing epithets, the defrauded love 
of the mother vented itself upon her child, whom she 
had mourned almost as one dead. All in the room 
dropped on their knees, and the air was vocal with 
thanksgivings and hallelujahs. 

In a week or two the mother called on me with her 



SARAH morris' STORY. 365 

boy, to show me how cleanhness and decent dress 
had improved him, and to reiterate her gratitude for 
his recovery. 

" But how could you run away from your baby, 
even to obtain your freedom? " I inquired. 

" Well, missis," said the woman, " when I left 
Lou's'anny I didn't tink not to go back agin. I tole 
my ole man, and all de folks on de ole place dey'd see 
me back, sure, to my pickaninny. Ebery gal missis 
had done took I^orf for tree year had done gone and 
run off; and dat's why she took me, an' lef ' my chile 
on de place. When we'd got ^orf, to a place dey 
call Newport, I didn't tink den to run away. But 
one Sabba' day massa and missis dey gone to ride on 
de beach, an' T set down on de doorstep an' tink o' 
my little chile ; an' den I hear de Lor' speak to me 
out o' de stillness. He say, ' Sarah, go up stars, an' 
pack up your tings, an' go to Ch'cago ! ' But I say : 
' Oh, no. Lor' ! I want to go back to dat chile. What 
dat little chile do on dat big place widout his mammy? 
'No, Lor', I don't want to go to Ch'cago.' 

" An de Lor' He speak agin in de stillness, an' dis 
time wid a great voice, and say : ' Sarah, do as I tell 
yer! I'll take keer o' dat chile; you go to Ch'cago.' 
So I go up stars, an' pick up my duds, a-cryin' an' 
a-cryin' all de time. I tell de Lor' on my two knees 
two, tree time: 'If yer please, O Lor' King, lemme 
go back to my chile ! I don't want to be free. What 
for shall I be free, an' my chile be lef down on 
massa's ole place?' Ebery time de Lor** King He say 
loud, so it fill all de room, ' Go to Ch'cago ! ' So I go 
down to de cars, an' sot down on de seat, a-cryin' all 
de time in my heart, 'cos I was 'shamed to cry wid 
my eyes 'fore all de people. An' when de conductor 



366 "DAT chile's my chile!" 

gib de word, 'All aboard! ' I was gwine to jump off, 
for I said : ' O Lor' King, I don't want noffiu widout 
my chile! I don't want heben widout my picka- 
ninny ! I can't go to Ch'cago ! ' An' de Lor' King 
he ketched me back; an' he said, so loud and strong 
I 'spected all de folks would hear, ' Dat chile's my 
CHILE ; I'll taive keer o' him ! ' So I gin up to de 
Lor' den, honey; and all de big storm in my heart 
stop, an' I was dat happy I could ha' sung an' 
shouted, like I was in a praise-meetin'. 

" An' de Lor' He take all de trouble out o' my way, 
an He fix eberyting for me, 'fore I know it's got to be 
fixed; an' He send frien's at ebery place, to tell me 
whar to go, an' to gib me money, an' clo'es, an' grub, 
till I git to Ch'cago. An' he hab a place all ready 
for me hyar, an' I nebber hab a day idle 'cos thar was 
noffin to do, or 'cos I was sick. Sometimes, when I 
hab a great misery in my heart for my chile, den I go 
to de Lor', an' tell Him all about it. An' de Lor' He 
would take all de misery 'way ; for He would 'clar dat 
chile was Hisn, an' dat He would tote him to me bime- 
by. An' de Lor' King is jes' as good as His word; an' 
He's sent de pickaninny, grown so peart an' so big 
dat nobody but his mammy would eber ha' known 
him. So now I prommis' de Lor' King I'll neber mis- 
trust Him no more, an dat dis chile shall be His chile, 
for shure, sence He done took keer o' de little chap 
when he didn't hab no mammy, an' was too little to 
take keer o' hisself.'- 

The earnestness, pathos, and solemnity of this 
narration cannot be described. To the mother, the 
voice of the Lord and His direct guidance were veri- 
ties. 

But what of Johnny and Lizzie? As soon as 



CHAPLAIN M'CABE's STORY. :]67 

possible, I published their histories in brief in the 
city papers, and applied to a loyal and generous 
people to compensate them for the suffering entailed 
on them by the loyalty of their parents. Most gen- 
erous were the responses. Chaplain McCabe, known 
throughout the countr}^, saw the published account 
of the refugee children, and came to my house to see 
them, suspecting that he knew something of Johnny's 
father. In conversation with the lad, his impressions 
deepened into certainty. Chaplain McCabe was 
taken prisoner at the first Bull Run battle, and was 
thrown into Libby Prison. Here he found a number 
of Virginians incarcei-ated for their hostility to se- 
cession. 

One of them was in failing health, and solicited 
the chajDlain's prayers and ministrations. Gradually 
the man told him his story. He proved to be 
Johnny's father. He had been informed of his son's 
departure for Missouri, and often begged the chap- 
lain to seek the lad and the uncle in Missouri, when- 
ever he regained his liberty. The chaplain had the 
address of the uncle, which nvas the same as that 
given to Johnny. " If I needed other proof of your 
being the son of my fellow-prisoner," said the chap- 
lain, " I have it in your complete resemblance to him. 
You are his perfect fac-simile." 

" Yes," said Johnny, " they always used to say I 
was exactly like my father. Did you leave him in 
Libby Prison when you were released?" 

A shadow fell over the chaplain's line face. Alas! 
alas! Johnny was an orphan. Chaplain McCabe 
had seen his father pass through the valley of death 
and had commended his departing spirit to the dear 
God, who rules, even in the midst of the inharmonies 



368 JOHNNY AXD LIZZIE CARED FOK. 

and strifes of our human existence. The boy could 
not be comforted. He went to his room, and, locking 
himself in, wept aloud. It was hours before I could 
obtain access to him. His father had been to him 
both father and mother, and until the war they had 
been inseparable. ^N^ow all was gone — he was 
alone. 

After a time he was received into a family, that 
became deeply interested in him; and as there were 
only daughters in the home, they hoped to keep him 
always with them. For a year he attended school, 
and grew rapidly to the height of manhood, but was 
thin and frail. The iron had entered his soul deeply, 
and it was not possible for him to settle down into 
quiet life in the ]S^orth. Despite the remonstrances 
of his adopted parents and sisters, who had become 
much attached to him, and in utter disi-egard of my 
entreaties and promises to aid in re-instating him in 
his home and property at the close of the war, he 
went again into the service, about six months before 
the conflict ended. He was in camp at Springfield, 
111., for some time, where he was attacked with pneu- 
monia, and died in hospital, never reaching the field. 

Lizzie was adopted by a Southern family driven 
from Mississippi for loyalty. Not brilliant, nor very 
quick of perception, she proved a good girl, and 
matured in the home of her adoption, under most 
favorable influences. There were no other children 
in the family, and she became the companion of the 
lady who stood to her in place of mother. I often 
saw her, and rejoiced that the habitually sad look on 
her face was gradually displaced by as heavenly a 
smile as ever iri-adiated a human countenance. She 
had a very happy temperament. 



CHAPTER XYIII. 

OUR BATTERY BOYS — A SECRET DRILL — THE DISCOVERY — 
OFF TO THE FRONT — GOD-SPEED AND FAREWELL TO MY 
SUNDAY-SCHOOL BOYS — EXTRACTS FROM THEIR DIARIES. 

Our Church in Chicago — The Morale of its young Men — Memories of the 
Past — A loyal Congregation — What happened at Evening Service — Sud- 
den Disappearance of our young Men — A peculiar Sound from the Sun- 
day-School Room — Tramp ! Tramp I Tramp I — We stealthily open the 
Door and peep in — Our Discovery — "We have all decided to enlist" 

— An unspoken Prayer — All but two of our young Men are mustered 
into the Chicago Mercantile Battery — The Grief of Parting — Solemn 
Consecration — An affecting Farewell — Extracts from their Diaries — 
A jolly set — Roughing it without Whining — The Art of Frying Cakes 

— " Sweet Times here " — The Siege of Vicksburg — Awaiting the Bat- 
. tie — Army Life at the Front — " Spoiling for a Fight " — Ordered' into 

Action — We keep up Communication with our Boys — A Country 
devastated by War — An unexpected Visitor. 

HERE was an Hiiusiially large number of 

interesting young people in the 

Society, of Chicago, when the war of the 
rebellion began. The older members of 
the parish felt that the church had in itself 
more than ordinary strength and promise, be- 
cause of the well-born, Avell-bred, well-educated, and 
consecrated young men and women who confessed 
loving 'allegiance to its faith and its interests. Es- 
pecially were they proud of its young men; and they 
felt that the future of the church was very much in 
their keeping. Some were about to enter Harvard, 
Tufts, or Yale, and all were connected with good 

369 




370 RARE YOUNG PEOPLE. 

families. In addition to their other excellences, 
they possessed that nameless ease and grace which 
are only acquired in the environments of homes 
presided over by pure, refined, affectionate mothers 
and sisters. 

The Sunday-school was large, numbering more 
than five hundred teachers and scholars, who packed 
the vestries and parlors of the chui'ch every Sunday, 
regardless of weather or outside attractions. Into 
this school was harnessed our entire force of young 
men and maidens, who did duty as teachers, librari- 
ans, singers, or members of the Bible class. They 
did their work with wonderful heartiness and ear- 
nestness; and there was such genuine friendliness 
among them that one would have thought they were 
members of the same family. 

What marvellous festivals and pleasure parties 
they extemporized in those days! Into what delight- 
ful rural fetes and excursions were we older people 
enticed by these " young folks," who led us captive 
to their will! What continual surprises they planned 
for the bewilderment of the pastor, and the no less 
beloved pastor's wife! How they swarmed at the 
fortnightly church " sociables," and with their 
brightness and buoyancy, their contagious good- 
na'tui-e and overflowing hilarity, their wit and clever- 
ness, their unselfishness and tact, made each of these 
small occasions more inviting than a grand ban- 
quet! I recall the memory of those days, removed 
into the past forever, not with pleasiu'e alone, but 
with a sense of loss. Some of the grandest of our 
young men were brought from the battle-field, wrap- 
ped in the flag for which they had given their lives. 
Others are sleeping in sunny, Init unknown graves 



THE ARMY ABSORBED THEM. 371 

in the far-away South, and all are scattered by land 
or by sea, never to be re-united until God " gathers 
in one, all the families of the earth." 

There was not, from first to last, a disloyal person 
in the parish. It honored every draft upon its means 
with generous contributions of money, and almost 
every young man it numbered, old enough to bear 
arms, went into the service of the country, with the 
addition of several so young and some so old as to 
be legally exempted from military duty. First, one 
enlisted in the cavalry service; then two or three 
went into one of the Illinois regiments. Two or 
three others raised companies, and went to the front 
in command of them. Then the gunboat service 
took away a few more; until finally we found our 
large Bible class wholly depleted of its young men. 
But as they went singly, or in groups of two and 
three, with intervals of months between, we gradu- 
ally became used to it, as to other sad events of the 
war. We had still a large number left, and, as their 
ranks were thinned, they closed up more solidly, 
increased their activity, became doubly useful to the 
parish, and doubly dear also. 

One evening in the summer of 1862 there haj^- 
pened to be two meetings in the vestry — one of 
Sunday-school teachers, in the library-room, and 
another of some sort in the small Sunday-school 
room. We missed our young men teachers, but went 
on with the business of the evening without them. 
Something unusual must have detained them, we 
said, for they were rarely absent from meetings of 
this kind. 

" What is going on in the large Sunday-school 
room?" was asked. No one knew. But all the 

23 



372 "we shall enlist in the battery." 

evening we heard a muffled, peculiar, regular sound 
proceeding thence — tramp ! tramp ! tramp ! — tramp ! 
tramp ! tramp ! — which we could not explain. It 
continued with almost the regularity of the ticking 
of a clock. Tramp! tramp! trainp! tramp! — and, 
our meeting being ended, we stealthily oj)ened the 
door, and peeped in. There were our missing young 
men, and they were drilling. 

The settees were all moved to one side of the 
room, so as to make a clear space for their rudimen- 
tal di'ill. The drillmaster was the Superintendent 
of the Sunday-school, who had organized it in the 
beginning, and had brought it to its present efficiency 
and size. He ceased the "left! left! left!" with 
which he directed their steps, as we swarmed, curi- 
ous and fascinated, into the room, and the young 
men came to a halt. Before we could ask an ex- 
planation of this unusual proceeding, Mr. S had 

vouchsafed it; — 

"We have all decided to enlist in the Chicago 
Mercantile Battery, now being formed, and shall 
hand in our names to-morrow." 

We scanned their faces earnestly for a moment, 
and in silence, ^ol they were not jesting— ^ they 
were in dead earnest. An audible sigh ran through 
the group of lookers-on, and some of us took in the 

whole meaning of what Mr. S had said. To our 

prophetic vision, the future loomed up chid with the 
sorrow, anxiety, and grief it afterwards bore. "Let 
this cup pass from us ! " was the unspoken prayer of 
every heart. 

Could we give up Mr. S , the idol of our 

four hundred Sunday-school children, the leader 
of the choir, whose cheerful words and presence 



COULD THEY BE SPARED? 373 

always toned us to hopefulness and courage? Must 
George Throop go, whom the loss of a finger legally 
exempted, when his enlistment would bereave his 
parents anew? They had just laid under the sod 
one of the noblest sons God ever gives to parents. 
Could not the Brackett brothers excuse themselves 
from obeying the call of the country, by pleading the 
necessity of parents declining in years, the invalid- 
ism of a brother, and the helpless condition of the 
little daughter, whose young mother had but just 
passed on to heaven? 

Young Willard was a mere boy, preparing for 
Harvard, unfitted by constitution and mental train- 
ing for the life of a soldier. Turner was delicate, 
alarming us continually by his oft-recurring illnesses, 
and he would be on the sick-list immediately. The 
almost girlish slightness and fragility of young Munn 
were a perpetual reminder of the insidious pulmonary 
weakness which had carried his mother to a prema- 
ture grave. Pitts had just taken to his heart and 
home a beautiful bride, a fair young girl, who shrank 
in an agony of apprehension from the prospect of 
his leaving her for the dangers of the tented field. 
While Hugh Wilson, the youngest of them all, was 
still in the High School — a sixteen-year-old boy, 
the youngest of his own family — a sort of church 
Mercuiy, who ran hither and thither as with winged 
feet, distributing library books, carrying messages, 
doing errands, ubiquitous, almost omniscient. Surely 
they would never muster that child into the artillery 
service ! 

All this, and much more, I thought, faster than it 
has been written, but I did not say it then. Mr. 
T , our minister, spoke first, with tremulous voice, 



374 "our battery boys." 

and eyes glistening with tears. "It will be very 
hard to give you up, and we shall miss you inex- 
pressibly; but if you feel it to be your duty, go, and 
God bless you ! " Our lips acquiesced, but our hearts 
said, "Stay here!" Their resolution could not be 
shaken, although fathers, mothers, lovers, wives, 
sisters, and friends, pleaded for a reconsideration 
of their determination. They were all mustered 
into the Chicago Mercantile Battery, and ever after 
were known to us as " Our Battery Boys." This 
dismantled our society of the young strength and 
promise of which we had been so proud. All the 
young men of the parish, except two, were swal- 
lowed up in this battery, and they would have gone 
if the surgeons who examined them had not refused 
to accept them. It was a heavy blow to the parish, 
and for a time it was enshrouded in sadness. Almost 
every home had its individual share in the grief of 
parting, as, indeed, almost every family in the com- 
munity had part in a like sorrow. For 

" The lines of every printed sheet 
Through their dark arteries reeked with running gore. 
Girls at the feast, and children in the street, 
Prattled of horrors." 

But we were too patriotic and considerate of the 
feelings of the brave young fellows, who had made 
heroic saci-ifices for their country, to manifest the 
depression we felt. Towards them we bore ourselves 
like Koman matrons and maidens, going often to 
their camp to witness their military drills, talking 
proudly of their future, and pledging to them our 
devotion and service to the uttermost. Picnics were 
planned almost daily for their benefit, and there was 



A PUBLIC LEAVE-TAKING. 375 

not a day while they were in camp that they were 
unvisited by some members of the parish. We made 
them waterproof needle-books, filled with needles, 
thread, scissors, and buttons, whose use they were 
skilful in learning. We made them portable water- 
proof writing-cases, and supplied them with abun- 
dant postage stamps. We provided those who would 
accept them with small cases of such medicines as 
were supposed to be indispensable in army life. 
It became a part of our religion to serve and to min- 
ister to their happiness. 

Before they broke up camp, and went to the front, 
public leave was taken of them in church. It was 
a lovely Sunday in August, and the house was 
crowded to suffocation. The boys occupied front 
seats, wearing their artillery unifoi-m; and the entire 
services were arranged with reference to their de- 
parture and their consecration to the cause of liberty. 

Instead of a sermon. Rev. Mr. T delivered an 

address to the newly made soldiers, in which he be- 
sought them to guard well their health and morals, 
not only for their own sakes, but for the sake of those 
who remained at home. They were entreated to 
return to us, if they came at all, as good and pure as 
they were leaving us. They were instructed that 
the war was caused by slavery, and would only end 
with the death of slavery, and the transformation of 
the slave to a free man ; and they were cautioned not 
to side with the persecutors of this long downtrod- 
den people. 

To each one Mr. T presented a pocket Testa- 
ment, with the request that it should be read daily, 
when unavoidable hindrances did not prevent. He 
asked the boys, as far as practicable, to maintain 



376 SOLEMN CONSECRATION". 

weekly religious services when on the march and in 
the camp. He pledged to them the public prayers of 
the church on every Sabbath until their return, or 
their relief from the service by death. He prom- 
ised that their friends and families should be the 
special charge of the church, which would rejoice in 
their joy, and sorrow in their sorrow, and, when cir- 
cumstances demanded it, would match their need 
with requisite aid. ^obly were these promises re- 
deemed! The soldiers were never forgotten, and 
their friends at home were ever remembered. 

The young artillerymen were consecrated to God 
in prayer, its solemnity and earnestness moving every 
heart; its tearful tenderness indicating the precious- 
ness of the gift being laid on the altar of freedoni. 
I wrote verses in those days, and, by request of 
the boys, furnished the following hymn, which 
was sung by the great congregation to "Auld 
Lang Syne " : — 

So here we part ! Our paths diverge — 

Each leads a different way : 
You go to freedom's holy war ; 

We tarry here to pray. 
Our hands join brief in farewell now, 

That ne'er so clasped before : 
Oh,- brothers, in this parting hour, 

Death's bitterness is o'er. 

Yet proudly, though with hearts that ache, 

We give to you " Godspeed ! " 
Haste ! for our country gasps for life — 

This is her hour of need. 
Her anguished cry comes on the breeze, 

And smites the listening ear; 
The traitor's sword is at her heart — 

And shall ye linger here ? 



OTHER ISrOBLE MEN IN THE BATTERY. 377 

Nay, brothers! haste, with blessings crowned, 

Engirded witli our love ; 
Our hourly prayers, besieging heaven, 

Shall plead for you above. 
Your dear ones left in lonely homes. 

Shall hence our lot divide ; 
We are but one blest household now. 

Whatever may betide. 

We will not weep ! Be done with tears ! 

Both paths lead home to heaven — 
That marked for you through battle-fields, 

And that which God has given 
To us, who, weary, watch afar 

The tide of battle swell — 
Then, hearts, be brave, and, souls be strong ! 

'Tis but a brief farewell ! 

The chorus of voices became less in volume as the 
song proceeded. One after another ceased to sing, 
because they could not forbear to weep. And by the 
time the last stanza was reached, our boys were sing- 
ing alone, clear, strong, and unfaltering. 

There were other excellent and very superior young 
men in the battery besides our boys, but my sketch 
does not deal with them. Lockport, 111., sent a con- 
tribution to the battery, from the flower of her youth 
— young men who had grown up in refined, cultivated 
homes, with no thought of the destiny Providence 
had in store for them. There was a great variety of 
talent among them. One was a noble fellow, born in 
Burmah, the son of a missionary. Another had so 
good a knowledge of nursing, and so general an 
acquaintance with the milder forms of sickness, that 
he was nicknamed " Doctor," and was soon installed 
as the nurse of the battery. There was another 
whose forte was cooking, and who was forever build- 



378 MAKING THE BEST OF THINGS. 

ing ovens of Southern clay, and out of the crudest 
materials concocting some delicacy to tickle the pal- 
ates of his companions. I can testify that he was 
specially skilful in the art of frying cakes, and 
baking corn bread. 

The young men affiliated readily, regardless of 
sect or diflerence of opinion, reading, singing, play- 
ing baseball, and often holding religious meetings to- 
gether, as if they had always been associated. 

I have in my possession some of the diaries kept 
by them, from the time of enlistment to the expira- 
tion of their time of service. In looking them over, 
I am impressed anew with the evident cheerfulness 
that characterized them, as it did the men of our 
army generally. When well, they were a jolly set, 
I'oughing it without much whining, and inclined to 
make the best of their frequent grave discomforts. 
I give a few of the entries taken at random from 
two of the diaries : — 

" Weather terribly cold. Rose at half-past eight 
o'clock. Sat on the ground in captain's tent, and 
wrote a long l^ew Year's letter to mother. In the 
afternoon, put up tents, and got a warm meal. Had 
hardtack and raw pork for breakfast — oyster supper 
in the evening. A jolly time." 

" Had funeral over Squad Six's horse. Doggie 
Doggett " — a dog they took with them — " principal 
mourner." 

"Built a splendid 'shebang'; as convenient and 
handsome as a Yankee pigsty. Invited the squad, 
and had a pow-wow in the evening." 

" Spent all the moi-ning frying cakes ; could not 
get ahead, boys ate them so fast. Don't like the 
business. Lewis died this morning. Body to be 



"sweet times here." 379 

sent to Chicago. Had a jolly supper of oranges, 
soft bread, cold boiled beef, onion and encumber 
pickles, and coffee. Wrote to father." 

" Boys foraging freely. Plenty of turkeys and 
chickens. One of the Forty-Eighth Ohio, and one 
of the Twenty-First Iowa, captured by guerillas, 
while foraging, a mile from camp. They were tied 
together, and shot. One killed, the other wounded. 
They were brought into camp, and the wounded and 
dead were passed through on a horse, so that all saw 
them. There was great indignation. The Sixth 
Missouri Cavalry sent in pursuit. Boys found some 
hogsheads of molasses. Helped themselves. Got 
daubed from head to foot, and came into camp buz- 
zing like beehives with flies. Had a bully game of 
base ball. Received letters from home." 

" Boys all busy making molasses candy. Sweet 
times here." 

"Face and lips parched with the wind, and cov- 
ered with dust. Squad Two's men crossed the 
bayou, and caught sheep, but wei-e ordered by the 
guard to leave them. After dai'k, Dick Powell 
swam over with a rope, and hitched the sheep to 
it; one of them was drawn over by the boys. 
Ordered to move at five o'clock in the morning." 

" Thirtieth day of the siege of Yicksburg. Bul- 
lets flying over us day and night. Have had lively 
times. Shell from a twelve-pound howitzer struck a 
man belonging to !Ninety-Sixth Ohio, while lying in 
bed, — tearing his jaw, and dislocating his shoulder. 
Read ' Bitter Sweet.' Took a bath. Held theological 
discussion with Higby, Mendsen, and others. Wrote 
to mother." 

"Put up tent, just in time to escape a terrible 



380 "the kebs trying to pepper us." 

shower. Turned in, and slept in the water all 
night, but knew nothing of it till morning. Hot 
— hot — hot ! We're getting cooked doAvn here, and 
the rebs, knowing it, keep trying their hand at 
peppering us. Got nine letters from home to-day. 
Other boys got more. We talked, and sang low, a 
great deal about home. 'No sleep all night." 

There is scarcely an entry in one of the diaries 
that does not record some event with a touch of 
humor in it, a frolic, or, at least, a gay social time 
that enlivened the gloominess of army life. 

They reached the army just in time to be incorpo- 
rated with the troops whose efforts were directed to 
the re-opening of the Mississippi, and first to the 
reduction of Vicksburg, as jthe direct means to that 
end. They accompanied General Sherman on the 
Tallahatchie march, which was "mere fun," as the 
roads were good, the country new to them, and very 
pleasant. Then they went in his command to Chick- 
asaw Bluffs, where they stood ready to aid in an 
immediate attack, for three days and nights. The 
horses were ready harnessed, and standing, and 
the men sleepless and expectant; the I'ain pouring, 
the mud of the swamp-land where they were sta- 
tioned deepening, the execrable bayous about them 
becoming hourly more dangerous and impassable. 
Baffled, beaten back, and repulsed with great slaugh- 
ter, Sherman returned up the river to Milliken's 
Bend, and our boys, incorporated into the Thir- 
teenth Corps, in which they afterwards remained, 
were ordered thither also. 

Under command of General McClernand, they 
next went on an expedition against Arkansas Post, 
or Foi't Hindman, up White River, fifty miles from 



CAME DOWN THE TREE IN A HURRY. 383 

the Mississippi, which fell into the hands of our 
troops, with five thousand prisoners. The follow- 
ing entries from two of the diaries briefly tell the 
story of their share in this engagement : — 

" January 9, 1863. — Started up White River on 
steamer Louisiana, which received our men, horses, 
and guns. Left our sick men on the Adriatic, in 
charge of Corporal Dyer (the excellent nurse we 
have before mentioned), as we are bound on an 
expedition of some sort against the enemy. Sent 
two short notes to father and friends, not knowing 
what may happen. Men in excellent spirits, spoiling 
for a fight." 

" Jan. 10. — Left the boat, and travelled three miles 
towards the Fort, against which we are proceeding. 
Received an accession of five men to our squad from 
the One Hundred Thirty-first Illinois Infantry. 
Horses remained harnessed to the guns all night. 
Passed a line of rebel rifle-pits. The gunboats 
shelled the woods and Fort all the evening." 

" Jan. 11. — Our battery ordered into action. 
Started about nine o'clock. Passed the second line 
of rifle-pits, and halted near a grave-yard. At noon 
the ball opened. We were drawn up within three 
hundred yards of the Fort. Early in the engagement 
a shell exploded over and around us, giving Hugh 
W^ilson a big scare, who, boy-like, had climbed a 
tree, standing right in the range of the enemy's guns, 
hoping to see what was being done in the Fort. He 
was covered with broken branches, cut off by the 
explosion of the shell, and came down in a hurry, 
uttering a prayer or an oath, he says he does not 
know which. The artillery thundered around the 
Fort in all directions. We fired about forty rounds 



384 CAPTURE OF VICKSBURG. 

from ' Old Abe, ' " — for so they had named one of their 
guns, — " when the rebs ran up the white flag. Amid 
tremendous cheering, that seemed to rend the heav- 
ens, we swarmed into the Fort, and took possession. 
We camped on the field that night." 

Our boys were highly complimented by their offi- 
cers for their gallant behavior on this occasion. The 
papers trumpeted their praises, and on the next 

Sunday, when Mr. T thanked God for their 

preservation, in the prayers of the morning ser- 
vice, every heart uttered a voiceless but fervent 
and devout " Amen ! " 

Kext came the siege of Yicksburg, when they 
marched from Milliken's Bend down the west bank 
of the Mississippi nearly seventy miles, to a point 
opposite Grand Gulf. Here they crossed with other 
troops, and, under the lead of General Grant, marched 
to the rear of that seemingly invincible city. Until 
its surrender, they were active in the various meas- 
ures that led to its capitulation on that glorious 
Fourth, when the nation surrendered itself to a delir- 
ium of joy over the success of our armies at Gettys- 
burg and Vicksburg. 

Hitherto we had been able to keep up constant 
communication with the boys. Thei'e was an unin- 
terrupted pi-ocession of boxes going down to them, 
filled with everything for which they asked and with 
many things for which they never thought of asking. 
Letters, papers, periodicals, clothing, writing mate- 
rials, postage-stamps, photographs of persons, places, 
and scenes, everything which seemed likely to amuse, 
comfort, or assist, was sent on its way to their en- 
campment. Very many of their friends obtained 
passes within the lines, and visited them, returning 



THE MISSISSIPPI OPENED. 385 

with such cheerful accounts of their daily life as 
greatly relieved their relatives of anxiety for them. 

But from this time they passed beyond the reach 
of friends or packages from home, except at rare 
intervals. While they were in the rear of Yicks- 
burg, there were weeks when we knew nothing of 
their condition or whereabouts. But through all the 
daily assaults and sallies • of that memorable siege, 
although they were often in great danger, they were 
unharmed, except as the terribly hot weather, poor 
fare, and bad water caused sickness among them. 
Hardly had Vicksburg surrendered when they were 
sent with other troops to re-enforce Sherman on the 
Big Black, who had gone thither to oppose Johnston. 

Over a region devastated by war, parched by the 
drought, both men and horses being maddened by 
thirst, suffocated by dust, and scorched by the July 
sun, they pressed on towards Jackson, Miss., only to 
learn that the city was evacuated by the rebels. They 
had hurried across Pearl River, burning the bridges 
behind them to prevent pursuit. They were ordered 
back to Vicksburg; and after the fall of Port Hud- 
son the battery was transferred to General Banks' 
command in the Department of the Gulf. The sur- 
render of Port Hudson completely removed the rebel 
embargo on the commerce of the Mississippi, and 
permitted its waters to flow unvexed to the sea. 

In one of the diaries are the following entries : — 

"July 10, 1863. — Glory to God in the Highest! 
Port Hudson surrendered four days after Yicksburg ! 
The Mississippi has got back again into the Union! 
The Confederacy is cut in twain ! General Gardner 
gave up his sword to General Banks, they ran up the 
stars and stripes on the top of the highest bluff, and 



386 UNEXPECTED VISITOR. 

then a sutler opened his shop down by the landing. 
The Mississippi is open to trade its whole length! " 

"July 20, 1863. — Hartley suddenly dropped down 
in our camp to-day. Didn't know he had left Chi- 
cago, or thought of visiting us. A visit from the 
Sultan of Turkey wouldn't have surprised us more. 
He brought St. Louis papers of July 12, eight days 
after the fall of Vicksburg. Counted advertise- 
ments of nineteen steamhoats, soliciting passengers 
and freight for the lower Mississippi, including 
Helena, Memphis, Vicksburg, and I^Tew Orleans. 
The old times are coming back to us ! The Missis- 
sipjDi is once more open to commerce ! Hurrah ! " 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE 'story of our BATTERY BOYS CONTINUED — A DISAS- 
TROUS EXPEDITION — A TRAP OF DEATH AND DESTRUC- 
TION—SCENES OF HORROR— THRILLING ACTS OF BRAVE- 
RY AND DEVOTION. 

Changes among our Boys — Breaking down under the Hardships of War — 
The Battery constantly sliif ts its Encampment — Working hard to kill 
Time — The Humorous Side of Life in Camp — History of " Doggie Dog- 
gett," the Canine Member of the Battery — His Exploits and Unknown 
Fate — Lost in the Service — Unfortimate Expedition — Up the Red 
River — Charging the Enemy with a Baggage-Train — Our Boys fall into 
a Trap of Death and Destruction — A terrific Charge by ten thousand 
Rebels — Overpowered by superior Numbers — Retreat or Surrender the 
only Alternative — The Guns of the Battery captured — Death of Lieu- 
tenant Throop — Sergeant Dyer shot while spiking his Gun — Many of 
our Boys are taken Prisoners — Hugh Wilson's Devotion — Only eight 
of our Boys return at the Close of the War. 

^^^Y this time, a good many changes had oc- 
^^ curred among the boys. Five of them had 
J^9 broken down under the unaccustomed hard- 
^^ ships to which they were subjected, and, 
after suffering for a long time in hospitals, 
were discharged from the service. One had 
died, and his body had been sent home for burial. 

Lieutenant S , the original superintendent of 

the Sunday-school, was forced to resign because of 
circumstances that he could not control, and he had 
returned to Chicago. His resignation caused deeper 
despondency and discouragement than the sickness 
and death of all the others. The remarkable manli- 

387 




388 WE HAD COUNTED THE COST. 

ness, judgment, and good sense of the man, as well 
as the sterling integrity of his character, his cheer- 
fulness, and affectionate nature, made him indispen- 
sable to our boys. We all felt that hig association 
with them gave them a sort of immunity from many 
of the ills of a soldier's life. In a very large sense, 
the boys of the parish had been given to his keeping, 
as to that of a wise and good elder brother. But 
after a while we became accustomed to these 
changes, as to the other inevitable bereavements, 
disappointments, and griefs which the war had 
brought on us and on the dear country. We had 
counted the cost, and did not lose heart when it 
proved heavier than we anticipated. 

Until the spring of 1864, our boys were stationed 
in Louisiana and Texas, shifting their encampments 
occasionally as the movements of the enemy com- 
pelled them. l!^ow, we heard from them at Carroll- 
ton, some half-dozen miles from jN^ew Orleans. 
Then, at Franklin, Algiers, Brashear City, Opelou- 
sas, I^ew Iberia, Baton Rouge, and other points. 
They were continually flitting hither and thither, 
now to protect a point which the enemy threatened; 
or, as an intimidation to guerillas; or, because a "re- 
connoissance in force " was proposed ; or, as the boys 
themselves sometimes believed and openly declared, 
to render safe the cotton spoliations, in which not a 
few of our officers were at that time concerned. 
This sort of life was not to their liking, and they 
grumbled about it not a little. 

Much of the time for the six or eight months suc- 
ceeding the fall of Vicksburg, they were compara- 
tively idle, save as they worked hard to kill time. 
The diaries kept during this period, show that this 



"grumblers' den" "POW-WOW HALL." 389 

was dreary business. They gave concerts, extem- 
porized theatrical performances, built shebangs, and 
painted over each some outre name, in the temporary 
absence of the occupants, which was intended as a 
joke on their peculiarities or history. If one was of 
a taciturn temperament, and had a shebang all to 
himself, he would find in the morning that his 
cabin had acquired during the night the painted 
cognomen of " Celibacy Hall." The shebang occu- 
pied b}^ two dear friends rejoiced in the name of 
"Hotel de Siamese Twins." Three or four, more 
given to fault-finding than the rest, dwelt in " Grum- 
blers' Den." A quartette of inveterate wags sported 
over their tent the staring announcement, "Pow- 
"Wow Hall ! Protracted meetings held here ! " Two 
or three others, not very scrupulous, who had been 
detected in imposing on their best friends, the ne- 
groes, received their retribution in the unsolicited 
sign, painted in the night: "Legree House — ISTe- 
groes for Sale Here ! " And so on. 

Sometimes a waggish squad, assisted by a neigh- 
boring infantry company, would arouse the whole 
encampment at midnight Avith a moonlight parade. 
The men would be attired fantastically in what they 
called " night uniforms," with wash-dishes for caps, 
and caisson shovels for swords, and every other 
ridiculous contrivance in the way of dress. They 
would have " cow-horn " music, by " Gideon's Band," 
a blast of which was strong enough to blow down 
the walls of any Jericho against which it was 
directed. 

At Baton Kouge, where they were encamped some 
time, they found employment for themselves, and 
helped fill their empty pockets, by a public exhibition 



24 



390 HISTORY OF "doggie DOGGETT." 

of negro minstrelsy. They persuaded the provost- 
marshal to give them the free use of the largest and 
most elegant hall in the city for several nights. 
There was a good deal of musical talent among the 
boys. They could play several instruments finely, 
and had often assisted us at home when we gave 
exhibitions of tableaux, or held festivals, with the 
music of an improvised band. Many of them were 
excellent singers; so they arranged a programme, 
blackened their faces, got up fantastic costumes, and 
for a week gave nightly entertainments to crowded 
houses, their audiences expressing their delight by 
the most boisterous applause. This was so profita- 
ble pecuniarily, that they would have repeated their 
negro performance elsewhere had they been able to 
command a hall. 

Sometimes they went a-fishing, or, more frequently, 
a-foraging, and " Doggie Doggett " always accompa- 
nied them. I find frequent mention of this canine 
member of the battery. When our boys left Chicago 
they took two dogs with them; one a large, noble 
Newfoundland, which was lost on the Tallahatchie 
march, and the other a miserable little shepherd 
dog, that they christened " Doggie Doggett," and 
which proved invaluable to them. He was a great 
pet, and was instructed, and trained, and frolicked 
with, and caressed, until he became a highly ac- 
complished animal. His exploits would occujjy 
more space and time in recounting than would 
those of "old Mother Hubbard's dog," whose 
chronicles are to be found in the veritable nursery 
books of Mother Goose. He paid no heed to 
the stringent orders issued from time to time, 
commanding respect for the rights of property in 



LOST IN THE SERVICE. 391 

the country through which he mai'ched or where he 
encamped. If he saw a sheep or a pig at a distance, 
he immediately went for it, and held it until oui- bo^^s 
could despatch it. Stimulated by the praise he re- 
ceived, he redoubled his eiforts in the foraging line; 
and it was the boast of the battery that " Doggie 
Doggett could kill more sheep in one night than any 
other dog on record." He possessed so much of the 
savoir faire, that if he visited a flock, and was not 
discovered and called off, he left not one alive to tell 
of his dealings with them. 

It was the intention of the bo^^s to bring him 
IS^orth and make a hero of him; and this they prom- 
ised the ugly little brute over and over, all through 
the wai*. His love of sheep would have cost him his 
life at an early day had they brought him home; and 
it is not therefore to be regretted that they lost him, 
just as the war ended, when they were on their way 
to the IS^oi'th. Amid the confusion of regiments 
hastening homeward, the dog became bewildered, and 
marched off with the wrong battery. That is the 
theory of the boys. So dear had he become to them, 
that they actually obtained a pass for a man to go to 
Brashear City to seek him, as he was supposed to 
have straggled off in that direction. But "Doggie 
Doggett " was not to be found, and to this day no 
one knows his fate; but his memory is honored in 
the records of the battery. 

In the latter part of the winter of 1864, General 
Banks planned an ill-starred expedition, whose line 
of operations was Ked Kiver. Its object, was the cap- 
ture of Shreveport, with the rout and dispersion of 
Kirby's army, culminating in the recovery of Texas, 
and a boundless supply of cotton for oui- mills and for 



392 UNFORTUNATE EXPEDITION. 

export. Admiral Porter was to take ten thousand of 
Sherman's old army, under General A. J. Smith, up 
Red River, with a strong fleet of ironclads. At 
Alexandria he was to meet General Banks with fif- 
teen thousand more, who were to march overland 
from the Atchafalaya. At the same time General 
Steele, with fifteen thousand tried troops, was to 
move on Shreveport from Little Rock. Our boys 
went on this badly planned expedition, with two thin 
divisions of the Thirteenth Corps, of which they were 
a part, under the immediate command of General 
Ransom, than whom the country had no nobler 
patriot and soldier. 

The expedition proved a disastrous and mortifying 
failure. General Banks' force was ten days behind 
time in effecting a junction at Alexandria with Ad- 
miral Porter. There was not water enough to float 
the heavy ironclads as they proceeded up Red River, 
and the heaviest were left below Alexandria. To 
make matters yet worse, a portion of General Smith's 
troops were recalled to protect the Mississippi from 
incessant and troublesome raids. As General Steele 
could not render any assistance until the three divis- 
ions met at Shreveport, General Banks' force of 
forty thousand men was reduced, jDractically, to 
twenty thousand. There was little pretence of 
secrecy on the part of our army, and the enemy 
knew, just as well as did our own commanders, what 
was the object of the expedition, where it was going, 
by what route, how many troops were engaged in it, 
and what were the character, calibre, and experience 
of the men who oflScered it. Every rebel prisoner 
captured on the way was as well posted on these 
matters as our own men — sometimes even more so. 



PELL INTO THE TRAP SET EOR THEM. 393 

They met with no very obstinate resistance until 
they reached N^atchitoches, although the enemy kept 
up a steady skirmishing- with the van of our army all 
the eighty miles of the way from Alexandria. From 
Natchitoches to Shreveport was one hundred miles, 
through pine woods, barren, sandy, and uninhabita- 
ble. On they pushed, into tlie trap set for them, 
right into the jaws of death and destruction. They 
left JSTatchitoches on the 6th of April and pressed on, 
meeting larger bodies of the enemy, the skirmishing 
growing hotter, the fight assuming larger, sharper, 
and more serious proportions. On the morning of 
tlie 8th, when they had come within two miles of 
Mansfield, they were unexpectedly confronted by the 
rebel " Army of the Trans-Mississippi," twenty thou- 
sand strong, commanded by Kirby, Smith, Dick 
Taylor, and other able ofiicers. The principal por- 
tion of the rebel troops lay in thick pine woods, with 
a hill between them and our forces ; and across this 
hill lay the only road which our men could follow, as 
it was the only one leading to Shreveport. 

The van of our army was mainly composed of the 
Thirteenth Corps, and the Mercantile Battery, to 
which our boys belonged, was in the extreme front. 
Just as they marched from a dense pine forest into a 
small clearing, they were attacked by the rebels in 
great force, on both flanks and in front. A line of 
battle was immediately formed. The guns of the 
battery were put in position, and, for a time, it 
seemed as though our men would make a successful 
defence. But suddenly there rose, as if out of the 
very ground, ten thousand rebel troops, who charged 
down on our panic-stricken men with terrific yells. 
They stood their ground bravely until they were 



394 KETREAT OR SURRENDER. 

overpowered by superior numbers. What availed 
two thousand cavahy, three thousand infantry, and 
twenty pieces of artillery, so placed as to be unable 
to act in concert, against a solid force of ten thousand 
men? An immense baggage and supply train of 
between three and four hundred huge army wagons 
was in the immediate rear of the advance, completely 
filling up the one narrow, winding forest road, and 
rendering it impossible for the main body of the 
army to give any support to the advance. 

There was nothing left our men but to retreat or 
surrender. The officers of the battery, which was 
doing good service, cheered on the men; for it was 
not in their nature to give way, while there was a 
possibility of beating back the i-ebels. With uplifted 
sword, and words of cheer on his lips, George Throop, 
now a lieutenant of the battery, was struck in the pit 
of the stomach by the fragment of a shell. With the 
single exclamation, "My God, I am killed!" he fell 
back from his horse, was caught by his companions, 
and taken to the rear. But, heroically, he bade them 
return to the fight and leave him to die, since they 
could do him no good. A surgeon pronounced his 
wound mortal, and he was placed in an ambulance to 
be taken from the field. 

Before it could get under headway, a retreat was 
sounded, and then a horrible rout ensued, of which 
General Franklin has said that " Bull Run was not a 
circumstance in comparison." He was on both battle- 
fields. Our boys tried to save their guns, but, finding 
that impossible, they endeavored to spike them. Ser- 
geant Dyer, whom I have before mentioned as a rare 
nurse in sickness, was shot through the lungs, and 
mortally wounded, while in the act of spiking his 






o 

m 




A WILD AND MADDENING SIGHT. 897 

gmi. The captain and two other commanding offi- 
cers were taken prisoners, one of them was fatally 
wounded, and thirty-two of the men were killed or 
captured. Of one hundred and ten horses, they took 
ofi' the field but forty-five. The rest were left 
wounded, dying, and dead. All their guns were 
captured, and fourteen others, belonging to other 
batteries. 

^^ Sauve qui peutf'' — Let whoever can, save him- 
self — was the rnotto of the hour, and a wild and 
maddening flight ensued. The drivers of the army 
wagons, occupying the only road through the woods, 
turned to flee, upsetting the huge vehicles, when 
they cut the traces from the mules, and fled with 
them. Immediately the road was choked with over- 
turned, crushed, entangled wagons, with struggling 
horses and mules, and half-crazed men. It was im- 
possible to save the valuable wagon-train, and that, 
too, fell into the enemy's hands. There was no 
order, no heeding of commands, no thought of any- 
thing but safety, and only a headlong stampede. 

Men on foot rushed j^recipitately to the rear. Bare- 
headed riders, with ashen faces, lashed their terrified 
beasts to more furious haste. Cavalry horses gal- 
loped riderless, at full speed, over the terrified 
infantry, the prostrate wounded and dying, and 
others on foot. Officers with drawn sabres, hoarse 
voices, and almost death-stricken faces, implored their 
unheeding men to stop, form again, and make a new 
stand. And in full pursuit of these routed fugitives 
the rebels followed pell-mell, yelling, shouting, and 
maintaining a continuous fire. The whistle of mus- 
ket-balls filled the air in all directions. The crashing 
of trees, the breaking of fallen wood, the galloping 



398 THE IsTINETEEN^TH COEPS DRIVES THE ENEMY. 

of horses and mules, the eddying whirlpool of mad- 
dened men, — all this made up a scene of horror that 
beggars description. 

For a full mile this terrible stampede continued; 
and then the fugitives came upon the magnificent 
[NTineteenth Corps, formed in full line of battle, right 
across their road. Even this could not halt the 
panic-stricken men. So, opening their ranks, the 
Nineteenth Corps permitted the disorderly retreating 
forces to pass through. Then they closed up solidly 
again, and waited the oncoming shock of the enemy, 
flushed with victory, who anticipated no check. On 
they came, with headlong impetuosity, shouting and 
firing as they advanced, driving in the skirmishers 
that had been thrown out, and charging on the in- 
trepid lines of blue and glistening steel as though 
they were the routed fugitives they had been driving. 
On they galloped, rushing almost up to the very 
muzzles of the guns, till they could look in the eyes 
of their foes, our men standing like animated gran- 
ite, reserving their fire till the word of command was 
given. Then there came one blinding flash of flame, 
one reverberating burst of thunder, from our galhmt 
hosts, one fierce rain of leaden hail on the ranks of 
the enemy, and the rebels surged back in a great 
wave, like the outgoing tide. Their pursuit was 
checked, their lines broken, and they could not rally 
again. It was now their turn to flee; and they fell 
back in haste, leaving their dead and dying on the 
field. The fight lasted but a few hours, but it brought 
discomfiture and deep humiliation to our forces. It 
cost the loss of three thousand men and twenty 
pieces of artilleiy, and compelled the entire army to 
turn sadly back to New Orleans. 



HUGH Wilson's devotion. 399 

But what of our boys? When George Throop 
fell, despite the battle raging around them, the boys 
all rushed to their fallen leader. But he commanded 
them to return to their duty, saying to each a tender 
" good-bye," as they turned away, and, dashing off 
the blinding tears, stood again manfully to their guns. 
" I am dying," were his words ; " but I am not afraid 
to die. Tell my father and mother that I die wil- 
lingly; my firm faith sustains me. I give my life for 
a glorious cause, and I do not regret it. So leave 
me, boys, for you can do nothing for me, but take 
care of yourselves." And so they left the brave 
young officer to die. 

All but one; and he would not obey. He was 
Hugh Wilson. We had objected more seriously to 
his entering the service than to all the others. A 
mere schoolboy, a Sunday-school pet, the youngest 
child of his mother, he would be only the plague and 
the plaything of the battery. Why should he go? A 
larger license had always been permitted him than to 
any other of the battery boys, and so, instead of 
obeying the command of his officer to return to duty 
as the others did, he jumped into the ambulance, de- 
termined to save Lieutenant Throop if possible. The 
cry of retreat was sounded behind him, and the ter- 
rified driver immediately cut one mule from the 
traces, and, mounting it, sought his own safety. Hugh 
seized the reins, and with the remaining mule en- 
deavored to pilot the ambulance through the labyrin- 
thine maze of fleeing men, broken wagons, and 
galloping horses, to a place of safety. The road was 
rough, and the dying lieutenant was roused to con- 
sciousness. Again, with characteristic unselfishness, 
he remonstrated with the lad for running such risks 



400 "save yourselp! quick, hugh!" 

to his own life and safety: "I am dying, Hngh, and 
yon can do nothing for* me. Save yourself; leave 
me, I entreat yon ! " 

But the warm-hearted boy, loving his long-time 
friend more and more as he saw him drifting away 
forever, once more gathered np the reins, and urged 
the mule to greater speed. They came to a side 
road, and into this Hugh turned the ambulance. It 
looked as if it might lead to a less obstructed path- 
way. Alas ! it led to a narrow stream of water, with 
steep banks and deep, swift current. It could not be 
forded. Again the lieutenant paused on the very 
threshold of heaven to beseech Hugh to seek his own 
safety. The iciness of death had already settled 
upon him. The unmistakable look of mortal pallor, 
that the human face never wears but once, was on his 
features. His speech was becoming inarticulate, and 
his pulse barely fluttered under the pressure of 
Hugh's finger. "Hugh, you must go! You will be 
taken prisoner. I am beyond the reach of the enemy ; 
they cannot harm me. Put something under my 
head, and then go. Save yourself ! Quick, Hugh ! " 
At the same moment rebel troopers came dashing 
down the road, and, catching a glimpse of Hugh, 
called on him to " surrender! " 

Quick as thought, Hugh stripped off his jacket, 
forgetting that it contained all his money (he had 
been paid off a few days before), the photographs of 
his father and mother, the little Testament his pastor 
had given him, and all the valuables he had in the 
world. Folding it under George Throop's head, he 
kissed his cold lips again and again, whispered a 
swift " good-bye," which the dying man had no 
voice to answer, leaped down the bank of the stream, 



A GLOOMY HOUR. 401 

and hid himself among the rank undergrowth, half 
in the water. They were parted now; one going 
back to the conflict, the other mounting heavenward. 

The rebels rushed down to the bank, and, not 
seeing Hugh, fired into the clump of bushes where 
he was secreted, and then rode away. The balls whiz- 
zed around him, but did not harm him. Cautiously 
the poor lad felt his way out to the edge of the 
still retreating tide of Union soldiers, and, weeping 
silently, disheartened, and bereaved, commenced a 
seai-ch for his surviving comrades. He found them 
at last, such as were not left dead on the field, or 
prisoners in the hands of the enemy. 

It was a gloomy hour. But one ofl&cer was left 
the battery, and of the missing they could not tell 
who was dead and wiio captured. Some time after, 
one of the battery boys who was left wounded on the 
field, and was taken to a rebel hospital, was paroled 
and came home. He brought with him a blouse 
which was known to be Lieutenant Throop's, as it 
bore his name marked by himself. He stated that he 
discovered one of the attendants at the hospital 
wearing it, and, on inquiry, learned that he took it 
from the dead body of a lieutenant of artillery, whom 
he had buried with other Union dead, after the battle 
of Mansfield. The grave of Lieutenant Throop is 
not known to this day, but his memory is green in 
the hearts of all who loved him, and they number all 
who knew him. It is no disparagement to the other 
members of the battery to say that his was the com- 
pletest, most harmonious, and best developed charac- 
ter among them. To all the battery boys he was 
leader, and his influence was always for good. His 
superior ofi&cers respected him the more deeply in 



402 A SAD AND WEEPING CONGREGATION. 

proportion as they were truly superior in the highest 
sense of the word. All trusted him. 

His diary came into my hands, and its indications 
of filial and fraternal affection impressed me deeply. 
]S^o one sought to comfort his father and mother, but 
all sat down and wept with them. "Oh," said one of 
his comrades, "how George Throop loved his mother! 
It would have been easy for him to die for her!" 
And by that token judge how the mother loved the 
son. She was the first to speak when the sad news 
was borne to the broken household. Lifting her 
white, tearless face, she said, " If it be true that all 
is over with George in this world, that he is dead, 
and not lingering in suffering, I rejoice for him! 
He will never have to suffer as his father and I are 
suffering now." 

We gathered in the church on the following Sab- 
bath, a sad and weeping congregation. We recalled 
the hour when from its altar we had dismissed the 
now glorified young leader to battle, to death, to 
Heaven. God had granted him a discharge from all 
earthly conflict, and for him there were no tears. 
We repressed our own lesser grief in the presence of 
the great bereavement of the parents. The choir 
sang of victory, and their voices swelled in a trium- 
phant song of thanksgiving for the glorious hope of 
immortality that illumines our darkness. The pray- 
ers of the morning breathed resignation to the 
inscrutable order of Divine Providence, which had 
stricken us so severely, and implored the peace of 
Heaven to enter our souls. And the sermon lifted us 
out of the damps and fogs of our earthly atmosphere 
into the serene light of the happy hereafter. Time 
has softened the poignancy of grief felt during the 



A REBEL PRISON IN TEXAS. 408 

months that followed, and memory and hope have 
done much to subdue the pain inflicted by that 
grievous wound. 

— " God keeps a niche 
In heaven to hold our idols! and albeit 
He brake them to our faces, and denied 
That our close kisses should impair their white, — 
I know we shall behold them raised, complete — 
The dust shook from their beauty — glorified 
New Memnons, singing in the great God-light ! " 

Those of our boys who were taken prisoners were 
carried to Camp Ford, in Tyler, Tex. Although 
they fared hard, and endured many privations, their 
lot was comfortable compared with that of the poor 
martyrs at Andersonville. They were placed in a 
camp of about ten acres, where seven thousand Union 
men were held as prisoners of war. It was inclosed 
by a stockade of oak timber, twelve feet high, and 
within its limits were five living springs of pure, clear 
water. These springs were ample for all the uses of 
the men, and, crowded as was the place, there was no 
excuse for personal uncleanness. 'No prisoner was 
allowed to come within ten feet of the stockade, and 
not unfrequently men who violated this rule, inad- 
vertently or through ignorance, were shot down like 
dogs. When our boys first reached the rebel camp, 
there were but six axes for the entire seven thousand 
men, who were obliged to cut their own fuel and 
build their own cabins. But an exchange of prison- 
ers was effected shortly after the arrival of the 
battery boys; and as some of the exchanged men 
were from Illinois, an appeal was sent to Governor 
Yates for axes and clothing. The appeal was muni- 
ficently answered by an abundant supply of whatever 



404 INGENUITY OF OUR BOYS. 

was asked, sufficient for six or seven hundred men, 
which was faithfully distributed. With the arrival 
of the axes, the boys went to " shebang " building, 
in which they had had much experience. Permission 
was given them to cut timber in the woods, and very 
soon they had as good houses of their own as the 
Texans of the town, and commenced housekeeping 
under difficulties, and in a somewhat primitive way. 

Many of the men were in a complete state of nudity, 
and their entire persons were browned to the color of 
Indians. Even their blankets were in rags ; and on 
one occasion, when some were exchanged, they were 
sent to 'New Orleans, and marched through the 
streets in very nearly the simple costume of our 
first parents before they went into the manufacture 
of fig-leaf clothing. They also suffered from a lack 
of vegetables, and this induced scurvy. Some of the 
discharged men were so afflicted with scurvy that 
their teeth fell out, and they came home with them 
in their pockets instead of in their mouths. To 
obtain vegetables, our boys manifested no little inge- 
nuity, assisted by others as energetic as themselves. 

The prisoners had to slaughter their own cattle; 
and they wei-e allowed the heads and hoofs as per- 
quisites. From the hoofs the Yankee boys made 
glue. With this and the sinews of the cattle they 
manufactured violins of every size, and by and by 
organized a band, whose performances were greatly 
relished by their fellow-prisoners. They obtained 
files, and transformed the backs of their knives into 
saws, with which they sawed the horns of the cattle 
lengthwise, and then cut them into combs. These 
combs were very salable, and brought a good price 
in Confederate money. IN'ot infrequently, rebels of 



FUTILE ATl^EMPTS TO ESCAPE. 405 

high social position would come into camp, and order 
combs, stipulating in advance their size and the price 
to be paid. Some who bought of them had been 
without combs for a year. With the money thus 
earned, our boys bought sweet potatoes and other 
vegetables, which kept scurvy, the great foe of the 
camp and prison, at a distance. They bribed the 
guard to bring them chisels and files, and then manu- 
factured from the horns that fell to their share com- 
plete sets of chessmen and checkers. For one set of 
chessmen they received from a rebel officer Confed- 
erate money equal in value to ten dollars of our cur- 
rency. 

There were frequent but always futile attempts 
to escape from the prison. The men dug tunnels, 
one of which was eight months in progress. But 
there were always rebel spies in camp, who were 
well informed of the plans for escape, and when, 
after eight months' patient subterranean labor, the 
tunneling party came out through it, one hundred 
and fifty yards beyond the camp, there stood the 
rebel jailers waiting to receive them. If, by good 
luck, a man made his escape for a time, he was soon 
caught, and in two or three weeks brought back to 
his old comrades, who received him with shouts of 
laughter and mocking jeers and jibes. Some escaped 
temporarily by hiding in the carts of refuse and offal 
that were daily hauled outside the camp. "When the 
officers learned this, a cartload was never dumped 
outside until the guard had repeatedly jDlunged his 
bayonet through the mass, sometimes transfixing the 
secreted soldier, nearly suffocated under the refuse 
debris of the cabins. Fresh lots of prisoners were 
constantly added to the camp, and with them there 



406 LOYALTY IX MARSHALL, TEXAS. 

was always smuggled in one or more of the rebels, 
disguised in Union uniform, who prowled about as 
spies. 

The rebel regiments sent to guard the camp were 
repeatedly changed. The Union prisoners soon de- 
moralized them; for the guards became completely 
fascinated with their conversation. This was under- 
stood in the camp, and, although conversation was 
prohibited between the guards and the prisoners, it 
was carried on constantly and without intei'ruption. 
The former had sufficient intelligence to comprehend 
that their prisoners were better educated than them- 
selves, better informed, and vastly their superiors in 
all matters of knowledge and skill. As they listened 
to their recital of the causes of the war, the over- 
whelming advantages of the I*^orth, and the inevita- 
ble and fast-hastening end of the conflict, the guards 
were won over to the side of loyalty, and fraternized 
with those whom they were to control. 
• At Marshall, Tex., where the boys were sent to 
the hospital for a time, they found an openly avowed 
sentiment of loyalty. The ladies of the town came 
to the wards and nursed them, fed them with food 
from their own tables, and attended personally to 
their wants, as if they were kindred instead of 
strangers. The mayor of the city and his son called 
on them, openly avowing Union sentiments, and de- 
nouncing the war and the Confederate government. 
Had they been in a Chicago hospital, among their 
own friends, they could not have received kinder or 
more generous treatment. 

The boys were held as prisoners for fourteen 
months, and then the war ended. As soon as the 
news of the fall of Richmond reached the rebel 



RELEASED WHEN LEE SURRENDERED. iOT 

guards, they left their posts without ceremony and 
went home. The prisoners saw their camp un- 
guarded, and, understanding what it meant, made 
preparations to follow the example of their guards. 
With their usual good sense and foresight, they had 
been preparing to leave for some time, and, as they 
earned money, had bought supj^lies of crackers, and 
sewed them up in their clothing, against a day of 
need. It was well they did; for, though their jailers 
promised rations for the long march to Shreveport, 
and thence, hundreds of miles, to ]S^ew Orleans, it was 
days before any were received, and then there was 
but a meagre supply. ISTearly naked, not very well 
fed, they at last found their way within the Union 
lines, when each man was furnished transportation to 
his own command, where he could receive his pay, or 
be mustered out of service. 

They found the wreck of the battery at ^ew 
Orleans, where the men had been doing " fatigue 
duty," a part of the time at Camp Parapet. The 
powers that be had ordered them to take muskets 
and serve as infantry, and, I think, had sent the 
muskets for that purpose. But the boys indignantly 
refused them, or to perform any of the duties of in- 
fantry. They had enlisted in the artillery. Their 
decision brought them into bad odor with the 
resident military authorities. Some petty tyrannies 
and indignities were attempted towards them by 
oflScials, which waked up the Chicago Board of 
Trade, under whose auspices they were mustered 
into the service; and that organization took the 
matter in hand, and summarily redressed their 
wrongs. 

At the close of the war the battery was mustered 

25 



4:08 OlSTLY EIGHT MEiST LEFT ! 

out of the service, and our boys came back to Chi- 
cago. There were hut eight of them left. All the 
others had died, or been killed in battle, or had 
dropped out of the service from invalidism; but two or 
three of them survive to-day. One died in Minnesota, 
of illness contracted in the service. Another gradu- 
ated from Harvard, and practises law in Michigan. 
Another is connected with the silver mines of Colo- 
rado. And of the young and manly strength, and 
power, and beauty, which were our boast when the 
war commenced, there is scarcely a trace remaining. 
Our boys are not; and others have succeeded to their 
places. We have lost them; but some time we shall 
find them. 

" For as we hasten through these regions dim, 
Lo, how the white wings of the Sera])liim 
Shine in the sunset ! On that joyous shore, 
Our lighted hearts shall know 
The life of long ago : 
The sorrow-burdened Past shall fade — 
Forevermore ! " 



CHAPTER XX. 

THE FIRST GREAT SANITARY FAIR — RAISING MONEY FOR 
HOSPITAL RELIEF — A GREAT AND MEMORABLE DAY — A 
MOTLEY PROCESSION THREE MILES LONG. 

Continued Needs of the Hospitals lead to a great Sanitary Fair — A 
Woman's Enterprise from the Beginning — Large Preparations — Seven- 
teen Bushels of Fair Circulars and Letters sent at one Mail — Mrs. Hoge 
obtains Help from Pittsbm-g and Philadelphia — Potter Palmer from 
New York — Boston and Connecticut contribute — The whole North- 
west ransacked for Attractions — At last, Men catch the Fair Mania — 
Their varied Gifts — Opening Inaugural Procession — Captured rebel 
Flags borne along — School Children in Carriages and Omnibuses — Con- 
valescent Soldiers from Hospitals — Procession of Farm Wagons, with 
Vegetables — Procession halts on the Court House Lawn — Firing of 
thirty-four Guns announces the Opening of the Fair. 

HE continued need of money for the pur- 
IJ chase of comforts and necessaries for the 
sick and wounded of our army, had sug- 
gested to the loyal women of the North- 
west many and various devices for the raising 
of funds. Every city, town, and village had 
had its fair, festival, party, picnic, excursion, concert, 
and regular subscription fund, which had netted more 
or less for the cause of hospital relief, according to 
the population, and the amount of energy and patri- 
otism awakened. But the need of money for this 
sacred purpose still continued. Our bi-ave men were 
still wrestling with the Southern rebellion, which, 

409 




410 CONTINUED NEEDS OF THE HOSPITALS. 

though oft-times checked, was not conquered. The 
hospitals whose wards were vacated by death, or re- 
covery of their patients, were speedily refilled by 
new faces which disease had rendered pallid, and 
new forms shattered by cannon-shot or sabre-stroke. 
It was necessary to continue to pour down sanitary 
supplies for the comfort and care of the suifering' 
soldiers, whose well-being", at that time, lay so near 
the hearts of all loyal men and women. Since the 
most valuable sanitary supplies could only be ob- 
tained with money, the ingenuity of women was 
taxed to the utmost to raise funds. 

The expenses of the Northwestern Sanitary Com- 
mission had been very heavy through the summer of 
1863, and every means of raising money had seemed 
to be exhausted. At last, Mrs. Hoge and myself 
proposed a great I*^orthwestern Fair. We had been 
to the front of the army ourselves, and had beheld 
the practical working of the Sanitary Commission, 
with which we were associated. We knew its activ- 
ity, its methods, its ubiquity, its harmony with mili- 
tary rules and customs, and we knew that it could be 
relied on with certainty when other means of relief 
failed. We saw that an immense amount of supplies 
was necessary for the comfort and healing of the 
army of brave invalids, and wounded men, that filled 
our military hospitals, and our hearts sank as we 
realized the depleted condition of the treasury of the 
Commission. 

We were sure that a grand fair, in which the whole 
]^orthwest would unite, would replenish the treasury 
of the Commission, which, from the beginning, had 
sent to battle-fields and hospitals thirty thousand 
boxes of sanitary stores, worth, in the aggregate, a 



A sa:n^itaky fair projected. 411 

million and a half of dollars. We knew, also, that it 
would develop a grateful demonstration of the loy- 
alty of the Northwest to our beloved but struggling 
country. That it would encourage the worn veterans 
of many a hard-fought field, and strengthen them in 
their defence of our native land. That it would re- 
veal the worth, and enforce the claims of the Sani- 
tary Commission, upon those hitherto indifferent to 
them. That it would quicken the sacred workers 
into new life. 

Accordingly, we consulted the gentlemen of the 
Commission, who languidly approved our j^lan, but 
laughed incredulously at our proposition to raise 
twenty-five thousand dollars for its treasury. By 
private correspondence, Ave were made certain of the 
support and co-operation of our affiliated Aid Socie- 
ties, and our next step was to issue a printed circular, 
embodying a call for a woman's convention, to l)e 
held in Chicago on the 1st of September, 1863. 
Every Aid Society, every Union League, and every 
Lodge of Good Templars in the ]S^orthwest, were 
invited to be present, by representatives. Some ten 
thousand of these circulars were scattered through 
the ISTorthwest. A copy was sent to the editor of 
every ]N"orthwestern paper, with the request that it 
might appear in his columns — a request generally 
granted — and clergymen were very generally invited 
by letter to interest their parishioners in the project. 

Pursuant to this call, a convention of women dele- 
gates from the Northwestern states was held in 
Chicago on the 1st and 2d of September, at Bryan 
Hall. The convention was harmonious and enthusi- 
astic. The fair was formally resolved on. The time 
and place for holding it were fixed. The delegates 



412 ' A]Sr EXTERPKISE OF WOMEN. 

came instructed to pledge their respective towns for 
donations ' of every variety, and help to the utmost. 
The women delegates were remarkably efficient and 
earnest; for each society had sent its most energetic 
and executive members. This convention placed the 
success of the fair beyond a doubt, and Mrs. Hoge 
and myself saw clearly that it would surpass in in- 
terest and pecuniary profit all other fairs ever held 
in the country. 

On the evening of the first day, a grand social 
re-union was held in the parlors of the Tremont 
House. This gave the ladies who had gathered from 
all parts of the country an opportunity of forming 
each others' acquaintance, and of discussing socially 
the various topics of interest suggested by the con- 
vention. On the afternoon of the second day, a 
mass meeting of women was held in Bryan Hall, 
when addresses were delivered by Thomas B. Bryan, 
Esq., Hon. O. H. Lovejoy of Illinois, Hon. Z. Chand- 
ler of Michigan, and some of the city clergymen. 
Their utterances nerved those who were laboring in 
the arduous Avork of hospital relief, to renewed and 
deeper consecration. It was a fitting close to the 
tAvo days' meeting, and kindled a flame in the hearts 
of the women who attended it. They returned, to 
their homes glowing with enthusiastic interest in the 
forthcoming fair. 

This first Sanitary fair, it must be remembered, 
was an experiment, and was pre-eminently an enter- 
prise of women, receiving no assistance from men in 
its early beginnings. The city of Chicago regarded 
it with indifference, and the gentlemen members of 
the Commission barely tolerated it. The first did 
not understand it, and the latter were doubtful of its 



SEVENTEEN^ BUSHELS OF MAIL MATTER ! 413 

success. The great fairs that followed this were the 
work of men as well as of women, from their very 
incipiency — but this fair was the work of women. 
Another circular was now issued, and this enume- 
rated and classified the articles that were desired. 
It was a new experience to the N^o'rthwest, and ad- 
vice and 23lans were necessary in every step taken. 

Preparations now went on in good earnest. Up 
to this point the efforts had been to create a public 
sentiment in its favor, and to induce the prominent 
organizations in the Northwest to pledge it their 
active support. These ends being now attained, 
the work of gathering articles for the fair went on 
rapidly. Twenty thousand copies of the second 
circular, specifying what articles were needed, when, 
where, and how they should be sent, were distrib- 
uted over the ]N"orthwest. The aid of the press was 
invoked, and it was granted in a most hearty and 
generous fashion. An extensive corresi^ondence 
was carried on with governors, congressmen, mem- 
bers of state legislatures, military men, postmasters, 
clergymen, and teachers. The letters addressed to 
the women of the IS'orthwest, explanatory, hortatory, 
laudatory, and earnest, were numbered by thousands. 
Some idea may be formed of the amount of ma- 
chinery requisite to the creation of this first North- 
western fair — the i3ioneer of the great Sanitary 
fairs which afterwards followed, "the first-born 
among many brethren " — from the fact that on one 
occasion alone there were sent from the rooms of 
the Sanitary Commission, seventeen bushels of mail 
matter, all of it relating to the fair. 

Nor was this all. Mrs. Hoge went to Pittsburg, 
Pa., for a few days, and formed a society for the 



414 HELP YllOM EASTERN CITIES. 

express purpose of aiding the foir. She had for- 
merly resided in that city, and had scores of friends 
and relatives there. So successful were her appeals 
to the citizens of Pittsburg, that it was necessary to 
fit up a booth for the reception of the articles con- 
tributed. Manufacturers, artisans, and merchants 
sent choice specimens of value, skill, and taste, from a 
huge sheet of iron, worthy of Yulcan, and a breech- 
loading steel cannon of terrible beauty, to rich and 
rare fabrics of foreign looms, fit for the draping of a 
princess. Even the carbon oil, with which we have 
only unsightly and unsavory associations, was sent 
in hundreds of beautiful casks with painted staves 
and gilded hoops, bearing mottoes of undying 
loyalty. 

From Pittsburg she proceeded to Philadelphia, 
the city of her birth and early girlhood. Although 
the remoteness of Philadelphia might have excused 
her from participating in the work of the fair, she 
caught the contagion of liberality, and sent substan- 
tial tokens of approval and interest. 

Potter Palmer, the proprietor of the famous hotel 
that bears his name in Chicago, took the city of 
'New York in hand, obtaining contributions from her 
importers, jobbers, and manufacturers, amounting to 
nearly six thousand dollars. 

Boston was already astir with preparations for a 
grand . soldiers' and sailors' fair, which proved a 
magnificent success. But she did not turn a deaf 
ear to my request for aid, but, with characteristic 
generosity, sent a large box filled with treasures 
abundant with her, but rare in the Northwest. The 
specimens of Chinese handiwork, of Fayal laces, of 
Sea Island algte as delicate as vapor and ari-anged 



AT LAST, MEX CAUGHT THE FAIR MAKIA. 415 

in sets, curious fans, slippers, pictures, and table 
ware in the highest style of Japanese art — these 
were rare at that time in the West, and when offered 
for sale at large prices vanished like dew before the 
sun. All sold quickly. 

Connecticut sent a magnificent donation that real- 
ized thousands of dollars, and with it a deputation of 
Connecticut ladies, who superintended that depart- 
ment, and acted as saleswomen. 

In every principal town of the Northwest " fair 
meetings " were held, which resulted in handsome 
pledges that were more than fulfilled. Towns and 
cities were canvassed for donations to the " Bazar " 
and " Dining Saloon." The whole Northwest was 
ransacked for articles, curious, unique, bizarre, or 
noteworthy, to add to the attractions of the " Curi- 
osity Shop." Homes beautified with works of art, 
paintings, or statuary, were temporarily plundered of 
them for the "Art Gallery," and all who possessed 
artistic, dramatic, decorative or musical talent were 
pressed into the service of the " Evening Entertain- 
ments." Executive women were chosen in every 
state, who freighted the mails with rousing appeals 
from their pens, or with suggestions born of their 
experience, frequently visiting different sections to 
conduct meetings in the interest of the great and 
noble enterprise. 

At last, even men became inoculated with the fair 
mania. They voluntarily came forward, pledging 
large donations in money or merchandise, or favoring 
the ladies with suggestions, and aiding in the work, 
which had now grown to huge proportions, and 
eclipsed all other interests. Mechanics offered their 
manufactures, one after another, — mowing machines, 



416 AlSr AVALANCHE OF GIFTS. 

reapers, threshing-machines, corn-planters, pumps, 
drills foi* sowing wheat, cultivators, fanning-mills, — 
until a new building, a great storehouse, was erected 
to receive them. They gave ploughs, stoves, fur- 
naces, millstones, and nails by the hundred kegs. 
Wagons and carriage-springs, plate glass, and huge 
plates of wrought iron, — one the largest ever I'olled, 
at that time, in any rolling-mill in the world, — block 
tin, enamelled leather, hides, boxes of stationery, 
cases of boots, cologne by the barrel, native wine in 
casks, refined coal oil by the thousand gallons, a 
mounted howitzer, a steel breech-loading cannon, a 
steam-engine with boiler, pianos, organs, silver ware,, 
crockery, trunks, pictures, boatloads of rubble-stone, 
loads of hay and grain and vegetables, stall-fed 
beeves, horses, colts, oxen, the gross receipts of the 
labor or business of certain days, — in short, what- 
ever they had of goods or treasure. 

During the last week of preparation, the men 
atoned for their early lack of interest, and their tar- 
diness in giving, by a continued avalanche of gifts. 
The fate of Tarpeia seemed to threaten the women 
who were the committee of reception. Such a furor 
of benevolence had never before been known. Men, 
women, and children, corporations and business 
firms, religious societies, political organizations, — 
all vied with one another enthusiastically as to who 
should contribute the most to the great fair, whose 
23roceeds were to be devoted to the sick and wounded 
of the Southwestern hospitals. As the Hebrews, in 
olden time, brought their free-will offerings to the 
altar of the Lord, so did the people of the ^N'orthwest, 
grateful to their brave defenders, lay their generous 
contributions on the altar of the country. The rich 



THE INAUGURAL PROCESSION". 417 

gave of their abundance, and the poor withheld not 
from giving because of their poverty. 

An inaugural procession on the opening day of the 
fair was proposed, and the proposal crystallized into 
a glorious ftict. The whole city was now interested. 
The opening day of the fair arrived. The courts 
adjourned; the post-oiiice was closed; the public 
schools received a vacation; the banks were un- 
opened; the Board of Trade remitted its sessions. 
Business of all kinds, whether in offices, courts, 
stores, shops, or manufactories, was suspended. All 
the varied machinery of the great city stood still for 
one day, that it might fitly honor the wounded sol- 
diers' fair. Could a more eloquent tribute be j^aid 
our brave men, pining in far-off hospitals, who had 
jeopardized life and limb in the nation's cause? 

^o better description of this splendid inaugural 
pageant can be given than the following, taken from 
the Chicago Tribune of Oct. 28, 1863. It gives a 
graphic picture of the procession as it gathered up 
its forces and moved on under the bright October sun, 
three miles in length. But there can be no descrip- 
tion given of the spontaneous patriotism, the infinite 
tenderness, the electric generosity, the moral earnest- 
ness, and the contagious enthusiasm, that transfused 
and glorified the occasion. One could as easily de- 
pict the shifting hues and lights of the Aurora : — 

"Yesterday will never be foi-gotten, either in the 
city of Chicago or in the JSTorthwest. It will remain 
forever memorable, as history and as patriotism. 
Such a sight was never before seen in the West upon 
any occasion, and we doubt whether a more impres- 
sive spectacle was ever presented in the streets of 
the Imperial City itself. The vast procession of yes- 



418 THE OPENING DAY OF THE EAIR. 

terday, with its chariots and horsemen, its country 
wagons and vehicles, its civic orders and miUtary 
companies, on horse and on foot, with their various 
designs, and mottoes, and brilUancy of color, con- 
verted Chicago, for the time being, into a vast spec- 
tacular drama. 

" From the earliest dawn of day, the heart of the 
great city was awake. Long before eight o'clock the 
streets were thronged with people. Citizens in gala 
dress hurried excitedly to and fro. Country women^ 
with their children, drove in early in the morning, 
with ribbons tied to their bridles, the national colors 
decorating their wagons, and miniature flags and 
banners at their horses' heads. From the housetops, 
from the churches, from the public buildings, was 
displayed the glorious flag of liberty. By nine 
o'clock, the city was in a roar. The vast hum of 
multitudinous voices filled the atmosphere. Drums 
beat everywhere, summoning the various processions, 
or accompanying them to the great central rendez- 
vous. Bands of music playing patriotic airs, bands 
of young men and women singing patriotic songs, 
groups of children singing their cheerful and loyal 
school songs, enlivened the streets. Every pathway 
was jammed with human beings, so that it was with 
extreme diflSculty any headway could be made. 

" The procession was advertised to assemble at 
nine o'clock precisely, and was composed of nine 
divisions. As near ten as possible, it started — ban- 
ners flying, drums beating, all manner of brazen 
instruments thrilling the listening ear, and stirring 
the hearts of the vast multitudes of people with 
exciting music. It was a mighty pageant. The 
enthusiasm that accompanied the procession, from 



THE HEART OF THE PEOPLE RIGHT. 419 

first to last, has rarely been witnessed on any occa- 
sion. It Avas a grand, sublime protest, on behalf of 
the people, against the poltroons and traitors who 
Avere enemies to the government, and opposed to 
the war. Bursts of patriotic feeling came from 
many a loyal bosom on this never-to-be-forgotten 
day. The people were overflowing with loyalty, 
and could not contain themselves. 

"For a long time they had been silent, keeping 
alive their love for the old flag, nursing their wrath 
against those that hated it — and who had so long 
fired upon it in the rear — finding nowhere any ade- 
quate utterance of their passionate feeling. ISTow the 
mighty eloquence of this majestic and sublime pro- 
cession spoke for them. This was the thing which 
all along they had wanted to say, but could not. 
They were in themselves ciphers, mere units of the 
nation; but in all those thousands of men they saAV 
themselves multiplied into an incalculable, irresistible 
host. They felt that their hour of triumphant speech 
had come at last. This was the answer which they 
thundered out in trumpet tones, to the miserable 
traitors who had so long torn the bleeding heart 
of their country." 

" I always knew," said one old man at our elbow 
in the crowd, while we were watching the procession, 
"that the heart of the people was right; they did 
not know their, danger for a long while ; now they 
have found it out, and this is what they say about it." 

In this remarkable pageant, the carriage contain- 
ing the captured flags attracted much attention, and 
excited great enthusiasm. These were the flaunting 
rags which the rebels had borne on many a battle- 
field, and which our brave soldiers had torn from the 



420 CAPTURED REBEL FLAGS. 

hands of their standard-bearers. I^o longer were 
they flaunting in haughty defiance at the head of 
rebel armies, but as hellorum exuvice — spoils of 
war — they were carried in triumph at the head 
of a civic procession in the peaceful streets of Chi- 
cago. They must have conjured up many a tearful 
memory in the minds of spectators there present, 
whose sons fought in the battles where these flags 
were captured, and whose graves make the soil of 
the South billowy. 

I^o less attractive was the sixth division of the 
procession, consisting of omnibuses and carriages 
crowded with children, who rent the air with their 
song of "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in 
the grave ! " and whose tiny flags fluttered inces- 
santly in the air, like the wings of gigantic butter- 
flies. After them came, in carriages, the convalescent 
soldiers from tlie hospitals in the immediate vicinity; 
wan, thin, bronzed, haggard, maimed, crippled. One 
incessant roar greeted them in their progress. They 
were pelted with flowers. Ladies surrendered their 
parasols to them, to screen them from the sun. 
People rushed from the sidewalks to offer their 
hands. Handkerchiefs were waved, and shout fol- 
lowed shout throughout the long three miles. 

But perhaps the most interesting spectacle of all 
was the " Lake County delegation." This was a pro- 
cession of the farmers of Lake County, who came 
into the city at an early hour, and wheeled into line 
with the procession. There were hundreds of farm- 
wagons, loaded to overflowing with vegetables. The 
staid farm-horses were decorated with little flags, 
larger flags floating over the wagons, and held by 
stout farmer hands. The first wagon of the pro- 



ATE IV 




CONFEDERATE BATTLE-FLAGS. 

I. From Bn.ogs.\nw 2 Foi-tv second M.ss.l^eQt. 3.Twemh Miss. Ca\'alr\- 4. NmlhTraas Re6t. 
> Austins Bi.tle.T. 6. So ( ;noliua Flag 7. Texas Black FlajJ. ' 8.\'ir^inia Flag 

For /Jes/-/-i/)tio/i.s .vcv fiages •'}7-,3.9. 
PHOTOGRAPHED AND PAINTED FROM THE ORIGINAL FLAGS EXPRESSLY FOR THIS WORK 

A D WORTHINBTON 8t CC I'UBL'SHERS HABTFORC, r.ONW 



LAKE COUNTY FARMERS. 428 

cession bore a large banner, with this inscription: 
" The gift of Lake County to our brave boys 
in the hospitals, through the great is"orth- 
WESTERN Fair." It was a free-will offering from 
hearts that beat true to freedom and the Union. 'No 
part of the procession attracted more attention, and 
no heartier cheers went np from the thonsands who 
thronged the streets, than those given, and thrice 
repeated, for the splendid donation of the Lake 
County farmers. There were no small loads here. 
Every Wagon was filled to overflowing with great 
heaps of potatoes and silver-skinned onions, mam- 
moth squashes, huge beets and turnips, monster cab- 
bages, barrels of cider, and rosy apples — load after 
load, with many a gray-haired farmer driving. 

Many of the farmers were sunburned men, with 
hard and rigid features, and a careless observer would 
have said that there was nothing in these farm-wagons 
and their drivers to awaken any sentiment. But 
there was something in this farmers' procession that 
brought tears to the eyes as the heavy loads toiled 
by. On the sidewalk, among the spectators, was a 
broad-shouldered Dutchman, with a stolid, inexpres- 
sive face. He gazed at this singular procession as it 
passed, — the sunburned farmers, the long narrow 
wagons, and the endless variety of vegetables and 
farm produce, the men with their sober faces and 
homely gifts, — until, when the last wagon had passed, 
he broke down in a flood of tears. He could do 
nothing and say nothing; but he seized upon the 
little child whom he held by the hand, and hugged 
her to his heart, trying to hide his manly tears behind 
her flowing curls. 

Among the wagons was one peculiar for its look 



42^1: "we did the best we could." 

of poverty. It was worn and mended, and was 
drawn by horses which had seen much of Hfe, but 
Httle grain. The driver was a man past middle age, 
with the clothing and look of one who had toiled 
hard, but his face was thoughtful and kindly. By 
his side was his wife, a silent, worn woman, — for 
many of the farmers had their wives and daughters 
on the loads, — and in the rear was a seeming girl of 
fifteen and her sister, both dressed in black, and with 
them a baby. 

Some one said to the man, "My friend, I am 
curious to know what you are bringing to the 
soldiers. What have you?" "Well," said he, 
"here are potatoes, and here are three boxes of 
onions; and there are some ruta-bagas, and there are 
a few turnips; and that is a small bag of meal; and 
then, you see, the cabbages fill in; that box with 
slats has ducks in it, which one of our folks sent." 

" Oh, then this is not all your load, alone, is it? " 

"Why, no; our region where we live is rather 
poor soil, and we haven't any of us much to spare, 
anyway; yet for this business we could have raked 
up as much again as this, if we had had time. But 
we didn't get the notice that the wagons were going 
in until last night at eight o'clock, and it was dark 
and raining then. So my wife and I and the girls 
could only go round to five or six of the neighbors 
within a mile or so;- but we did the best we could. 
We worked pretty much all the night, and loaded so 
as to be ready to get out to the main road and start 
with the rest of 'em this morning. It's little, but then 
it's something for the soldiers." 

" Have you a son in the army?" 

"Well, no," he answered slowly, turning round 



THE SANITARY FAIR OPENED. 425 

and glancing stealthily at his wife. " 'No, we haven't 
noiv. We had one there once. He was buried down 
by Stone River. He was shot there. That's his 
wife there with the baby," pointing over his shoulder 
to the rear of the wagon without looking back ; " but 
I should not bring these things any quicker if he were 
alive now and in the army. I don't know as I should 
think so much as I do now about the boys way off 
there. He was a good boy." 

The goal of the procession was the spacious yard 
of the Court House, where it halted for an address by 
Thomas B. Bryan, the loyal and gifted nephew of 
the rebel general Robert Lee. 

The fair was opened at noon, and the firing of 
thirty-four guns gave to the public the indication 
that its managers were in readiness to receive guests, 
and to put on the market its varied wares. As the 
last gun boomed on the ears of the vast multitude, 
they surged like a tidal wave towards Bryan Hall, — 
the first of a series of six or seven, occupied by the 
fair, to be entered. 

The Lake County delegation of farmers proceeded 
first to the rooms of the Sanitary Commission to 
unload their freight of vegetables. The hundreds of 
wagons drew up before the doors, and soon the side- 
walks and streets were filled Avith boxes, barrels, and 
sacks. Scores and scores of bystanders eagerly put 
their shoulders to the work, proud to aid in unload- 
ing the farmers' produce. Madison Street, for a 
whole square, was blockaded an hour, and the prog- 
ress of the street-cars arrested, but nobody grum- 
bled. The passengers alighted and increased the 
crowd, cheering the farmers, shaking hands with 
them, offering help, uttering congratulations and 

26 



426 TOUCHING INCIDENT. 

benedictions. Many a rough fellow, who elbowed 
his way into the dense throng to lend a hand at the 
disburdening of the wagons, found his hitherto ever- 
ready words fail him, and turned to dash away, Avith 
the back of his hand, unwonted tears, of which he 
need not have been ashamed. 

The back room of the Commission was speedily 
filled with wheat. Mr. McYicker, the well-known 
theatrical manager, tendered the use of his capacious 
cellar under the theatre for the vegetables, and that 
also was soon filled. While unloading, a messenger 
from the women managers approached the farmers 
with an invitation to Lower Biyan Hall, where a 
sumptuous dinner was awaiting them. The sturdy 
yeomen, accompanied by the marshals of the several 
divisions, marched to the hall, where the women 
warmly welcomed them. 

A touching little episode occurred while the farm- 
ers were dining. In the neighborhood of their 
tat)le were several soldiers, who had also ordered 
dinner. One of them chancing to give an order 
during a brief pause in the conversation, the tones 
caught the ear of one of the farmers, who turned 
quickly, and recognized in the bronzed and blue- 
coated soldier behind him his own son, whom he had 
not seen for two years and a half. He w^as now on 
his way home from Yicksburg on a short furlough. 
The discovei-y and recognition were mutual. Father 
and son started up at the same glad moment, and, in 
the touching language of Scripture, literally " fell on 
each other's necks and wept." This little occurrence 
gave new zest to the dinner, and added to the excite- 
ment of the hour. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

STORY OF THE GREAT FAIR CONTINUED — ITS SIX HALLS — 
PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S DONATION — UNEXAMPLED EN- 
THUSIASM —" GOD BLESS THE FARMERS." 

Profusion of Wares and rapid Sales — Daily Excursion Trains — President 
Lincoln donates the Manuscript of the Proclamation of Emancipation — 
Large Quantities of Food sent from the Country to the Dining-Hall — 
How Dubuque furnished her Quota of Supplies — Picturesque Scene 
— Hall erected for Donations of Machinery — Our Bargain with the 
Builder — A Revelation and its Results — County Court Room trans- 
formed into a " Curiosity Shop" — Rebel Flags, and Battle Trophies — 
Slave Shackles and Collars — Large Loan Collection of Art Works — Anna 
Dickinson's Lectm'es — Dinner to Northwestern Governors, Congress- 
men, and other Dignitaries — Gift of Live Stock — Auction Sales on the 
Sidewalk. 

BRYAN" HALL BAZAR. 

E inaugural Xieremonies being over, we will 
follow the multitude to Bryan Hall, trans- 
ferred for the nonce into a bazar, rivalling 
those of the Orient in bewildering beauty. 
A semi-circle of double booths followed the 
curve of the gallery, and another semi-circle 
was arranged against the wall, a broad aisle being 
left between for a promenade. In the centre of the 
hall, under the dome, a large octagonal pagoda was 
erected, two stories high; the lower floor occupied 
by fair saleswomen and brilliant wares, while in the 
gallery, overhead, the band discoursed sweet music 
through the afternoon and evening. The leading 

427 




428 THE HALLS BEAUTIFULLY DECOKATED. 

architect of the city planned the interior arrange- 
ments of the halls, while their decoration was happily 
entrusted to a committee of German artists. This 
was eminently patriotic in character, and full of sig- 
nificance in the history of the country at that time. 

The national flag was festooned, and clustered in 
all appropriate places. It floated overhead, it de- 
pended from arches, it entwined columns. It was 
looped in silken folds over every door so that no one 
could enter any of its departments without passing 
under the flag. Soldiers from the battle-field, on 
brief furloughs home, would glance around on the 
beloved banner everywhere displayed. They had fol- 
lowed it to victory, and had endured, in its defence, 
hardship, sickness, and mutilation. Tears, which 
they could not repress, coursed down their brown 
faces, as they beheld the exaltation of the national 
ensign. Soldiers wei'e welcomed to any department 
of the fair, on all occasions, and the blue uniform of 
the army or navy gave a free passport to all soldiers 
and sailors. 

If the goods and wares exhibited for sale were as 
astonishing in profusion as in variety, there was no 
lack of purchasers. From eight o'clock in the morn- 
ing until ten at night, and sometimes until a later 
hour, the six halls of the fair were densely packed 
with eager and interested crowds. To judge from 
the liberality of the purchasers, one would have sup- 
posed that each possessed the inexhaustible purse 
which the fairy gave to Fortunatus, for there was no 
haggling about prices, and no backwardness in buy- 
ing. If the sales slackened, the fair traders had but 
to utter the talismanic words, " Buy for the sake of 
the soldiers ! " and they proved the " open sesame '^ 



GOODS SOLD RAPIDLY. 429 

to all purses and pockets. The affable saleswomen, 
who, at the opening of the fair, were dismayed at 
les embarras des richesses, that piled their counters, 
remembering the vast quantities that lay snugly 
packed in boxes underneath, saw their goods dis- 
appear like snow in the warm spring sunshine, and 
the second week found them exercising their wo- 
man's ingenuity to replenish their rapidly disappear- 
ing stock. 

Arrangements had been made with the railroads to 
run excursion trains, at low prices, each day, from 
different parts of the country. This brought daily 
new crowds of large-hearted, whole-souled country 
people, who brought with them a fresh gush of na- 
tional feeling and glowing patriotism, and before 
whose unselfishness and devotion to country, the 
disloyalty of the city shrank back abashed. The 
weather had no effect on the throngs — rain or shine, 
cold or warm, calm or blustering, the halls of the fair 
were so densely packed that at times it was impos- 
sible to cross them. Policemen were stationed at 
the doors of the halls, to enforce entrance by one 
door and exit by another. The sales of tickets were 
sometimes stopped for an hour or two at a time, to 
relieve the overcrowded halls. It was ascertained 
from the doorkeepers that the average daily attend- 
ance was six thousand. 

It would not be possible to describe in detail the 
rare and beautiful articles that attracted throngs of 
people to this hall. The most noteworthy of all, and 
that in which the widest interest was felt, was the 
original manuscript of President Lincoln's " Proc- 
lamation of Emancipation," of the four million 
slaves of the South. This was the gift of the 



430 EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION. 

President to the fair, who accompanied it with the 
following characteristic letter: — 

Executive Mansion, Washington, Oct. 26, 1863. 
To the Ladies having in charge the Northwestern 

Fair for the Sanitary Commission, Chicago, III.: — 
According to the request made in your behalf, the original draft 
of the Emancipation Proclamation is herewith enclosed. The 
formal words at the top, and at the conclusion, except the signa- 
ture, you perceive, are not in my handwriting. They were writ- 
ten at the State Department, by whom I know not. The printed 
part was cut from a coi)y of the preliminary Proclamation, and 
pasted on merely to save writing. I had some desire to retain the 
paper; but if it shall contribute to the relief or comfort of the 
soldiers, that is better. Your obedient servant, 

A. Lincoln". 

This manuscript was purchased for three thousand 
dollars, by Thomas B. Bryan, for the Chicago Sol- 
diers' Home, of which association he was president. 
It was finely lithographed, and copies were sold by 
the Board of Managers for the benefit of a permanent 
Home for invalid Illinois soldiers, thousands of dol- 
lars accruing to the fund from their sale. The origi- 
nal manuscript was finally placed in the archives of 
the Chicago Historical Society for safe keeping, and 
was there burned at the time of the great confla- 
gration. 

THE DINIXG-HALL. 

While Upper Bryan Hall was occupied as a sales- 
room. Lower Bryan Hall was used throughout the 
fair as a dining and refreshment hall. The lady 
managers had promised to dine fifteen hundred peo- 
ple daily, with home comfort and elegance; and they 
amply fulfilled their pledge. The rush to this hall 
was as great as to the others, and hundreds went 



GENEROUS DONATIONS OF FOOD. 431 

away every day to restaiii-ants and hotels who could 
not be accommodated. The perfect system with 
which the dinners were managed, merits a passing 
notice. 

The city was thoroughly canvassed for donations 
to the fair, every district being taken by a lady, and 
faithfully visited by her, or her subordinates. The 
names and residences of all who w^ould contribute 
to the dinner-tables were taken, with the articles 
they would furnish, and the days on which they 
might be exjoected. The canvassing over, a meeting 
of the canvassers was held, and the aggregate supply 
for each day ascertained. Previous experience in 
these fair dinners had taught the ladies what quanti- 
ties of each article were necessary for one dinner — 
so many turkeys, so many ducks, so many roasts, so 
many pies, so many puddings, so many gallons of 
milk, so many pounds of coftee, and so many cans 
of 03^sters, etc. If the amount pledged for each day 
was not sufficient, the dinner committee supplied de- 
ficiencies. These supplies thus pledged were sent to 
the dining-hall on the days they were promised, or 
to depots appointed in the various divisions of the 
city, whence express wagons ran daily, at specified 
and advertised hours. 

In addition to this source of supply, large quanti- 
ties of ready-cooked food were sent from various 
parts of the country. ISTotification of the time when 
it might be expected was previously mailed to the 
committee. Michigan sent immense quantities of 
the finest fruit, twenty times as much as was re- 
quired by the exigencies of the refreshment tables. 
Hundreds of barrels of a23ples of late varieties 
were immediately desjDatched to the hospitals, whence 



432 HOT FOOD SENT FROM DUBUQUE. 

in clue time came grateful acknowledgment of the 
welcome donations. Grundy County, 111., sent game 
exclusively, nicely cooked and carefully packed, and 
forwarded with such despatch that it hardly had time 
to cool before the express delivered it in the dining- 
hall. Elgin, 111., from her abundant dairies, supplied 
a large proportion of the milk used during the fair, 
her " milkmen " calling regularly at the dinner hour 
with overflowing cans. 

Dubuque, Iowa, came to the help of the dining-hall 
in a most generous manner. The Dubuque ladies 
who visited the fair during the first week learned 
that there was not enough of poultry pledged for 
certain days of the week following. They hastened 
home to make up the deficiency. Some half-dozen 
of their best " shots " were instantly sent ofi" " grin- 
ning." A general raid was made on hencoops. 
Turkeys were bought or begged b}^ the dozen. 
Ducks and chickens were soon obtained by the hun- 
dred. On the days when their contributions for 
edibles were 'due, they sent to Chicago over one 
hundred turkeys, two or three hundred ducks, and 
as many chickens, exquisitely cooked, which were 
carried piping hot from the Dubuque kitchens to the 
express car. Several of the ladies sat up all the pre- 
vious night, and gave personal help and supervision 
to the work of dressing, baking, and packing these 
fowls. By some mystery of the cuisine, on their 
arrival in Chicago, they were brought to the table as 
hot as though they had just made their debut from 
the bakepan. 

Fourteen tables were set in the dining-hall, with 
accommodations for three hundred at one time. 
Every table was reset four or five times daily. Six 



ALL WILLING TO SERVE. 433 

ladies were appointed to take charge of each table 
throughout the fair. Two presided daily — one to 
pour coffee, the other to maintain general supervis- 
ion. These ladies were the wives of congressmen, 
professional men, clergymen, editors, merchants, 
bankers, commissioners, — none were above serving 
at the Soldiers' Fair dinners. Each presiding lady 
furnished the table linen and silver for her table, and 
added any other decorations and delicacies that her 
taste and means suggested, or that her friends and 
acquaintances contributed. The table waiters were 
the young ladies of the city, deft-handed, swift- 
footed, bright-ej^ed, pleasant-voiced maidens, who, 
accustomed to being served in their own homes, 
transferred themselves for the nonce into servants. 
Both the matrons who presided, and the pretty 
girls who served, were neatly attired in a simple 
uniform of white caps and aprons, made, trimmed, 
and worn, to suit the varied tastes and styles of 
the wearers. , In common with every lady who as- 
sisted at the fair in every capacity, they woi-e the 
national colors. 

A more picturesque scene than the dining-hall 
offered, when dinner was in progress, cannot be im- 
agined. The decorations were like those of the other 
halls, with the national flag waving over every table, 
and crowning the table ornaments. There was a 
profusion of flowers everywhere, mostly hothouse 
exotics; and a small bouquet was laid beside every 
plate. The gas was lighted day and night, giving 
additional brilliancy to the scene. The numerous 
tables, crowded with ladies and gentlemen who had 
come to dine; the long line of carvers, one for each 
variety of meats, who had closed the ledgei", and laid 



434 WIT HELD HIGH CARNIVAL. 

down the pen, to don the white apron, and take the 
knife of this department; the graceful girls in their 
pretty uniforms, gliding hither and thither in the dis- 
charge of their novel duties ; the agreeable matrons, 
who received all who came to their tables as though 
they were honored guests in their own homes; the 
crowds who stood round, determined to dine in this 
hall, good-naturedly biding their turn, with many a hon 
mot which provoked constant peals of laughter; the 
continual incoming of fresh trays, baskets, and pails, 
laden with viands for the dinner, — all this formed an 
animated and unusual picture, that pen cannot por- 
tray. There was no lack of sociality at these dinners. 
Mirth and laughter were as abundant as the food. 
Wit held high carnival. And a stranger, ignorant of 
the occasion, would have believed this a new Babel, 
where a second " confusion of tongues " had been 
wrought. 

The kitchen adjoined the dining-hall, where the 
heavy work was done by servants; and into these 
'penetralia only a favored few were admitted. The 
rule was inexorable; and woe to the curious wight 
who ventured within its precincts without leave or 
business ! Little ceremony was employed in enforc- 
ing his departure. Checks laid beside the j)^^te 
indicated to each his indebtedness, which was more 
or less according to the bill of fare he had ordered. 
These bills were settled at the table of the cashier, 
who gave in return a receipt, in the form of another 
check, on the presentation of which at the door the 
party offering it was allowed to leave the hall. There 
was no exit otherwise. 'So department of the fair 
requii-ed more executive skill in management, and 
none was more popular or successful. 



"a matter of law." 435 

manufacturers' hall. 

A temporary hall was erected, adjoining Bryan 
Hall on the east, for the reception of the heavy and 
bulky machinery contributed. A hall on the ground 
floor was necessary for this purpose, and such a hall 
Chicago did not possess. Obtaining a permit from 
the authorities for the erection, within the fire limits, 
of the temporary wooden structure that was needed, 
Mrs. Hoge and myself sought a builder. A gift of 
lumber had been made for this use ; and we desired 
to contract with him for the erection of the hall. The 
plan was drawn, the bargain made, the contract writ- 
ten, and we both signed it. 

" Who underwrites for you?" asked the builder. 

"What? " we inquired in concert. 

" Who endorses for you ? " he explained. 

" We wish no endorsers. We have the money in 
bank, and will pay you in advance, if you will draw 
the contract accordingly. We have more faith in you 
than you manifest in us," we replied. 

" It isn't a matter of faith at all," was his answer, 
" but of law. You are married women ; and, by the 
laws of Illinois, your names are good for nothing, 
unless your husbands write their names after yours 
on the contract." 

" Let us pay you then in advance," we said. " We 
have money of our own earning, and are able to settle 
your bill on the spot. Instead of a contract, give us 

a promissory note, like this : ' In consideration of 

dollars, I promise to build for Mrs. Hoge and Mrs. 
Livermore a hall of wood,' etc. Can't you do 
that?" 

" The money of your earning belongs to your hus- 



436 A SURPRISING REVELATION". 

bands, by the law. The wife's earnings are the 
property of the husband in this state. Until your 
husbands give their written consent to your spending 
your earnings, I cannot give you the promise you 
ask. The law must be respected." 

Here was a revelation. We two women were able 
to enlist the whole Northwest in a great philan- 
thi'opic, money-making enterprise in the teeth of 
great opposition, and had the executive ability to 
cany it forward to a successful termination. We 
had money of our own in bank, twice as much as 
was necessary to pay the builder. But by the laws 
of the state in which we lived, our individual names 
were not worth the paper on which they were writ- 
ten. Our earnings were not ours, but belonged to 
our husbands. Later in the conversation, we learned 
that we had no legal ownership in our minor chil- 
dren, whom we had won, in anguish, in the valley of 
death. They too were the pi'operty of our husbands. 

We learned much of the laws made by men for 
women, in tliat conversation with an illiterate builder. 
It opened a new world to us. We thought rapidly, 
and felt intensely. I registered a vow that when 
the war was over I would take up a new work — 
the work of making law and justice synonymous for 
women. I have kept my vow religiously. 

The signing of the contract was delayed till our 
husbands could give legality to it, by signing with 
us. And then the building was pushed rapidly for- 
ward to completion. When it was no longer needed, 
it Avas removed, and passed away forever. But the 
influence of the conversation with its builder still 
abides with me. 

It was so constructed as to be entered from Bryan 



ALL KINDS OF MANUJ^^ACTUiiES. 437 

Hall by a side door. The contributions to this de- 
partment were amazingly liberal, embracing almost 
every article of farm and household use, and were 
sufficient in number and importance for a good-sized 
State Fair. As the articles were mostly manufac- 
tured by contributors especially for the fair, they 
were made of the best material, and in the highest 
style of workmanship. In some remote districts, 
where a knowledge of the fair penetrated at a late 
day, manufacturers donated orders for machinery not 
then made. One order of this kind from Decatur, 
111., was for nine hundred dollars' worth of ma- 
chinery, and was available until the next July. 

Of ploughs there were scores, embracing almost 
every patent. 'Nails were donated by hundi-eds of 
kegs. Stoves were contributed by dozens, no two 
being of the same pattern. Barrels of kerosene oil 
of every brand were piled on one another, no incon- 
siderable portion of the space being allotted them. 
There were a dozen sets of scales, four of them of 
the manufacture of the Messrs. Fairbanks, worth one 
hundred dollars each. Reapers and mowers were 
donated that had bori^e off the prizes at several State 
Fairs, and threshing machines which had received 
similar honors. There were corn-shellers and corn- 
planters, straw-cutters, and grain and grass seed 
drills, fanning-mills and non-freezing pumps, sugar- 
mills and marble mantels, nests of wash-tubs and 
stacks of pails, every conceivable style of washing 
and wringing-machines, millstones, knife and scis- 
sors sharpeners, cases of boots and shoes, Saratoga 
trunks, common-sense chairs, carriage-springs, axles, 
hub and buggy spokes — in short, there w^ere speci- 
mens of every branch of N^orth western manufacture. 



438 NOBLE-HEAKTED MECHANICS. 

That Avhich attracted the most attention was a 
beautiful ten-horse power upright engine made and 
presented by the generous employes of the Chicago 
Eagle Works — every member of the establishment 
contributing to it. It was a most thoroughly built 
piece of machinery, and was very handsome. A 
boiler was also contributed by the boiler shops of 
the city, so that the engine was run during the fair, 
exciting great admiration by its easy and almost 
noiseless movements. The mechanics of the ^N^orth- 
west manifested a noble interest in the fair. In 
several instances, the employes of manufactories 
clubbed together and worked " after hours " to build 
machines for the fair. When this was not possible, 
they contributed their money, and sent a generous 
cash donation to its treasury, or they gave the entire 
proceeds of certain days' work. 'Not only did they 
contribute articles of their manufacture, but in the 
evening they came and assisted the ladies to sell 
them, disposing of the heaviest by raffling, and find- 
ing purchasers among their own customers for 
others. God bless them! Whether in the work- 
shop or on the battle-field, the mechanics of the 
J^orthwest at that time proved themselves brave, 
true, noble-hearted men. 

THE CURIOSITY SHOP. 

The supervisor's hall in the Court House, occupied 
mostly by the sessions of the County Court, Judge 
Bradwell presiding, was surrendered to the ladies, to 
be occupied by them as a " Curiosity Shop." IS^ot 
only did the obliging Judge adjourn his court for two 
weeks, but gave up his room to the fair, and, with 
his wife, Mrs. Myra Bradwell, he gave his services to 



BATTLE-TORN FLAGS. 439 

assist in arranging" and superintending this depart- 
ment. More attractive than all else in this hall were 
the battle-torn flags of our own regiments, and the 
captured rebel flags. The fourteen rebel flags, which 
were trophies of victory, were loaned for exhibition 
by Secretary Stanton. In the history of each of 
them there was material for volumes of narrative 
and romance. One Union flag, blood-stained and 
rent, had been selected by General Grant to be first 
unfurled over the Court House at Vicksburg when 
that city surrendered. Another had been captured 
in the battle of Bull Run, and with it the color- 
bearer. Both were in Libby Prison for more than a 
year. A heartfelt and tearful interest clustered 
around the flags; and, though rent in shreds, dis- 
colored, soiled, and blood-stained, they lent a glory 
to the w^alls upon which they hung. JN^or was it for- 
gotten that those who had fought under them had 
laid down life in their defence, and were then sleeping 
the " sleep that knows no waking," no more to be 
saluted by friend or assaulted by foe. 

A long table ran through the centre of the hall, 
covered with a motley collection of trophies captured 
from the enemy, including guns, cimeters, bowie- 
knives of all shapes, butcher-knives of most ferocious 
aspect, swords, balls, pistols, shells, camp-stools, etc., 
— every one of which had a history. 

Among these trophies was a shackle taken from 
the neck of a slave at Port Gibson by the "Walsh 
Guards," Eleventh Wisconsin. It was made of bar 
iron, three inches wide and half an inch thick, weigh- 
ing between three and four pounds, and had been 
worn eleven months. One trophy, which challenged 
the attention and roused the indignation of all, was 



440 A "SOUTHERX NECKLACE." 

called the " Southern necklace, '' and had the following 
history : — 

While our army was at Grand Gulf, Miss., an in- 
telligent contraband gave much valuable information 
as to the position of the enemy, and otherwise ren- 
dered himself useful to our forces. He finally fell 
into the hands of the rebels, who administered one 
hundred and fifty lashes, and placed an iron collar 
around his neck, riveting it on very strongly. After- 
wards the negro was captured from the rebels at 
Baton Rouge, La., by Company F, Fourth Wiscon- 
sin, and was immediately released from the collar. 
This collar was a round rod of iron, two inches in 
circumference, riveted together before and behind 
with two iron prongs one inch wide, three fourths of 
an inch thick, and twelve inches long, rising from 
each side directly outside the ears. 

There were little keepsakes made from the old 
historic frigate Constitution, better known as " Old 
Ironsides," and fragments of the wrecks of the rebel 
ram Merrimac, and the frigate Cumberland, which 
the Merrimac had so murderously destroyed in 
Hampton Roads a short time before. A silver band 
and three silver bracelets, in perfect preservation, 
taken from the brow and arm of a gigantic Indian 
skeleton, were sent fi'om Quincy, 111., where it was 
exhumed a few days previous to the fair. A young 
lady from the Island of St. Helena visiting Chicago, 
enriched the fair with a full collection of views of the 
island, and a large number of relics associated with 
Napoleon's life when held a prisoner there by Great 
Britain. Senator Chandler of Michigan sent an 
Alpine staff used by ISTapoleon when crossing the 
Alps to make war on Italy. The assistants in this 



THE ABT GALLERY. 441 

department daily talked themselves hoarse and weary 
in reiterated explanations of their storied collection, 
to the never-ceasing" crowds of curiosity-seekers. 
And probably this was the most interesting collection 
of articles and relics ever seen by Western people. 

The best arranged and best lighted hall in the city 
was placed at the disposal of the fair for an Art 
Gallery. It was free of rent, and to be occupied as 
long as it might be needed for that purpose. Parti- 
tions were run up between the large windows, divid- 
ing the spacious hall into alcoves, both sides of which, 
as also the walls of the room, were covered with 
pictures. Lady canvassers waited upon the citizens 
of Chicago, and obtained the loan of their best works 
of art for exhibition. Very few declined, and the 
number collected was a surprise to all. Pictures 
were sent from ISTew York, Wisconsin, Michigan, 
Iowa, and some from Pittsburg. The Chicago ar- 
tists generously painted pictures which they donated, 
and which were sold at very liberal prices. Young 
as Chicago was at that time, over three hundred 
tvorks of art were loaned from her homes. 

Church was represented by two South American 
pictures, which reminded one of his " Heart of the 
Andes." There were pictures by Rossiter, Cranch, 
Angelica Kauffman, Durand, Cropsey, Gilford, and 
Kensett. Of works by the old masters, there were 
paintings by Rembrandt, Sassaferato, and Tintoretto. 
Many of Mr. Healy's best portraits were on the walls. 
He had just completed a portrait of Dr. Orestes A. 
Brownson, and another of the glorious head and face 
of Longfellow. They were classed among the mas- 
terpieces of this artist. Like all Healy's portraits, 
they were distinguished for their marvellous coloring, 

27 



442 SUCCESS OF THE ART EXPOSITION. 

their careful finish, and conscientiousness of detail. 
The exhibition of statuary was small. A Mercury 
and Yenus by Thorwaldsen, with several bronzes and 
medallions, made up all that was valuable in the col- 
lection. Above the gallery was another hall, devoted 
to photographs, water-colors, and steel engravings; 
and a vei*y creditable collection was brought to- 
gether. 

The success of the Art Exposition may be inferred 
from the fact that twenty-five thousand people visited 
the gallery during the fair, and that it was necessary 
to continue it two weeks after the other departments 
closed, to satisfy the demands of the public. During 
the first five days, seven thousand catalogues were 
sold ; and the profits from their sale alone were sufli- 
cient to defray all the expenses of the exhibition. On 
one day alone, eighteen hundred and fifty tickets 
were sold at the door, and eight hundred catalogues. 

EVENING ENTERTAINMENTS. 

Metropolitan Hall was devoted exclusively to even- 
ing entertainments, and was not open during the day. 
Its decoration was given to a company of Germdn 
artists, who transformed it into a scene of bewildering 
beauty. Every iron column was fluted with the 
white and the red. Festoons of red, white, and blue, 
glittering with gold stars, depended from the gal- 
lery. Everywhere were mottoes expressive of faith 
in God, devotion to the country, and undying inter- 
est in her brave defenders. The proscenium was 
arranged with fluted decorations and festoons of the 
national colors. Busts of Washington and Lincoln 
were on either side of the stage ; while over the cur-, 
tain hovered the national eagle, resting on a shield, 



^'W^REG^NYVOtS. 

Cedar Moumam>lugri^62 

Th 



>v 




1 iH-st N I r^^^*^^S UNION BAT TLE-'f LAGS. 

4 Fi<5htv thir-H P ^■Onfi^u'1'i^ed and fiftieth Penn ReOn.i"BiicMaals") " ^ '^ 

4 l.i^^htv Ih.i-d t'pnn ReQt _ 5 Ninth S.J.Re|'t. 6^0„e hx.ndT-ed Ud fiJU, .V .Y. R.„,« 

/^/- Desrrififion.s sen piufea -tO 47. 
PHOTOGRAPHED AND PAINTED FROM THE ORIGINAL FLAGS EXPRESSLY FOR THIS WORK 



AID BY DETROIT LADIES. 445 

grasping the stars and stripes in the talons of one 
foot, and the arrowy lightnings with the other. 

In this hall the managers of the fair catered to the 
amusement of the crowd every evening of the fair. 
Every night the spacious hall was filled to its utmost 
capacity. Sometimes it was a children's concert. 
Then an exhibition of tableaux, allegorical, histori- 
cal, patriotic, or classical, exhibited on a revolving 
platform. Chicago audiences never wearied of tab- 
leaux in those days. The ladies of Detroit gave an 
exhibition of tableaux, bearing all the expenses 
incident to preparation, — costumes, travelling ex- 
penses, hotel bills, — and giving to the fair the gross 
receipts of the entertainment. For magnificence of 
costume, artistic grouping, and startling efi"ects, they 
could not be surpassed, even when arranged by pro- 
fessional artists. A monastic procession at midnight 
was a moving tableau. A company of nuns and 
priests, arrayed in the garb of their several orders, 
and beai'ing torches, filed slowly through the corri- 
dors and arches of the monastery, chanting clearly 
and sweetly the " Miserere " from " II Trovatore." 

Richard Storrs "Willis, brother of X. P. Willis the 
poet, known then as one of the first composers and 
pianists of the country, with Mrs. Willis, accompa- 
nied the Detroit party to Chicago. In the closing 
tableau, Mrs. Willis personated the Goddess of Lib- 
erty, in a bodice formed of the Union, with a skirt of 
the stars and stripes, wearing the liberty cap, and 
holding the flag. At her left were army officers, and 
a group of jolly tars in naval uniform. In a semi- 
circle in the background were arranged the three 
graces. Faith, Hope, and Charity. Suddenly the 
goddess, Mrs. Willis, broke forth with the " Anthem 



446 THRILLING EFFECT OF SOXG. 

of Liberty," both music and words of which were 
composed by Mr. Willis for the occasion : — 

" Anthem of Liberty, solemn and grand, 
Wake in thy loftiness, sweep through the land ! 
Light in each breast anew, patriotic fires! 
Pledge the old flao^ ajxain, llaof of our sires ! 
Fling all thy folds abroad, banner of light ! 
Onward, still onward, flag of our might! 
Onward, victorious, God for the right ! 

Amen, amen ! " 

The chorus was sung by all the group, and was 
most inspiring. The effect was electrical. The im- 
mense audience rose to its feet, and the curtain fell 
amid tumultuous cheers and applause. Again it rose; 
and again the Goddess of Liberty, as if inspired anew 
with patriotic fervor, sang the '" Star-Spangled Ban- 
ner," the entire audience rising and joining in the 
chorus, accompanied by the Light Guard Band. 

Vocal and instrumental concerts filled up the even- 
ings, with hops and pantomime and amateur theat- 
ricals. Then came the novelty of two lectures, 
delivered by 

ANNA DICKINSON, 

whose career as an eloquent and patriotic lecturer 
was then attracting universal attention. It was her 
first appearance in Chicago. The press had raised 
the expectations of the people very high by the nar- 
ration of her oratorical triumphs in the East. The 
Kepublican party had acknowledged its indebtedness 
to her eloquence for victories in Connecticut and 
I^ew Hampshire; and those who had been brought 
under the spell of her speech were extravagant in 
her praise. Every one was on the qui vive to see and 



AK EFFECTIVE ADDRESS. 447 

to hear her; and her audiences were limited only by 
the capacity of the hall. 

Her addresses were not so remarkable for origi- 
nality, logic, or argument, as for the magnetic power 
with which they were delivered. With a fearful 
array of indisputable facts, she exposed the subter- 
fuges of those who planned the rebellion at the South, 
and those who defended it at the JN^orth. With the 
majesty of a second Joan of Arc, she invoked the loy- 
alty, patriotism, and religion of the North to aid in 
quelling it. It was a wonderful sight. She was a 
young girl, of twenty summers; but she held an im- 
mense audience sjiell-bound by her eloquence, now 
melting them to tears by the pathos of her voice and 
of her speech, and now rousing them to indignation 
as she denounced the enemies of the country, fight- 
ing against our armies at the South, or plotting trea- 
son at home. 

Sandwiched between Miss Dickinson's lectures was 
a grand dinner, given by the lady managers to the 
dignitaries of the Northwest. Governors and ex- 
Governors, members of Congress, distinguished mili- 
tary men, at home on furlough, with such local mag- 
nates as could add eclat to the occasion, composed 
the guests. There were some two hundred in all. 
The most complete arrangements were made for 
their reception and entertainment. The hall was 
decorated for the 'occasion ; and to add to the pictur- 
esque effect, the young lady waiters were attired in a 
costume of their own devising, which harmonized 
admirably with the patriotic surroundings. A blue 
peasant-cap, skirt of the stripes of the flag, and a 
jaunty little red cap, trimmed with gold braid and 
tassels, gave to some of the girls a stateliness of 



448 ANOTHER PROCESSIOlSr OF FARMERS. 

presence, and to others only added piquancy. " I do 
not find it easy to give orders for dinner to these 
young goddesses of liberty," said one of the Gover- 
nors; and others experienced a like embarrassment. 
A large audience listened to the after - dinner 
speeches of the eminent guests, which were all 
aglow with lofty patriotism. It was the aim of the 
managers of the fair not only to make money, but to 
kindle anew the loyalty and devotion of the I^^orth- 
west. 

A second farmers' procession of wagons loaded 
with vegetables came in to the fair at noon on the 
day of the Governors' dinner. One would have sup- 
posed that the fair had just commenced, the proces- 
sion created so much excitement. The streets were 
again thronged with people. The procession of 
wagons paraded through the principal thorough- 
fares, cheered wherever it passed, and then pro- 
ceeded to the rooms of the Sanitary Commission, 
where the wagons were unloaded. This was a 
surprise to all, and helped to keep up the patriotic 
excitement to the utmost. 

After unloading their stores, the farmers proceeded 
to the Soldiers' Home, where a dinner had been pro- 
vided expressly for them. Two hundred soldiers on 
their way to the front dined with them. They made 
a jolly party. Addresses were delivered after the 
dinner was ended, the band played its most stirring 
airs, the best women of the city served them, and 
poured their tea and coffee, and then the gallant 
boys, hurrying back to the battle-field from hospitals 
and furloughs at home, gave cheer upon cheer for 
the farmers, when they learned of their generosity. 

In the midst of the festivities, a sick soldier in the 



"god bless the farmers." 449 

hospital of the home, to whose dull ear the glad 
sounds penetrated, inquired the cause. When an 
explanation was given him, he said, " That is good ! 
God bless the farmers ! " and, turning his face to the 
wall, before the gayety was ended, he yielded his 
spirit to the God who gave it. With the benedic- 
tions of the living and dying resting on them, the 
farmei'S climbed to their empty wagons, and returned 
richer than they came. 

Among other donations for which the ladies were 
unprepared was that of live-stock. Thoroughbred 
colts, pet bears, Morgan horses, Durham cattle, and a 
stall-fed ox, which weighed when dressed eighteen 
hundred pounds, were included in these donations. 
As we were notified of these novel contributions, ad- 
vertisements were inserted in the daily papers. A 
day and hour were appointed for their sale at auction 
on the sidewalk in front of Bryan Hall. A crowd 
always collected, and spirited bidding ensued, which 
resulted in the sale of all the live-stock given to the 
fair. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

LAST DAYS OF THE GREAT FAIR — SOLDIERS' DAY — TOTAL 
RECEIPTS ISTEARLY ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS — 
INTERESTING ITEMS AND INCIDENTS. 

Dinner given by thie Ladies to eight hundred invalid Soldiers in Hospitals 

— Lady Managers dined by Gentlemen, who serve the Feast — Mighty 
Frolic — " Completely tuckered out ! " — Items and Incidents — Afghan 
made with Money found in a dead Soldier's Pocket — Contraband's 
Gift — Donation of Octogenarians — Mite of the German Woman — 
The Luck of the Chickamauga Soldier — Major-General Herron of Iowa 
in the Fair — Letters of Gratitude from Soldiers in Hospitals — " Must 
see that Fair " — " All I have " — Safe place of Retreat — Pleasant Greet- 
ings — "A Soldier's Psalm of Woman " — Cheers for Lincoln — Cheers 
for the Soldiers — Cheers for the Ladies of the Sanitary Commission 

— Specimen of the Soldiers' Battle-ciy — The Dead. 

THE LAST DAY OF THE FAIR. 

T was decided to give a grand dinner on the 
closing da}^ of the fair to all the soldiers in 
Camp Douglas, the convalescents in the 
Marine and City Hospitals, and the Soldiers' 
Home. About eight hundred in all were pres- 
ent, but there were many others, too feeble 
for the excitement, who remained behind. Public 
announcement of the dinner having been made, 
donations of refreshments were sent to the hall in 
great profusion. Such a furor of preparation as 
that morning witnessed! Hot-houses were rifled 
of their flowers, — plate-chests of their silver, and 
every species of patriotic ornament was devised for 

450 




THE BRAVE SOLDIERS HONORED. 451 

the occasion. Rare fruit, ices, jellies, flowers, and 
game poured in upon the ladies in the greatest abun- 
dance. The best band in the city was engaged for 
the occasion. The hall was redecorated, and made 
more attractive than ever. The pretty waiter-girls 
made their toilets anew, and, taking their places be- 
hind the chairs, we saw that we had not merely one 
Hebe, but scores of them. 

Anna Dickinson had agreed to utter the words of 
cheer and praise and kindly remembrance with which 
every woman's heart dilated. The ladies felt it was 
not possible to sufficiently welcome and honor the 
brave fellows they had invited to dine with them. 
A more beautifully laid table was never seen. It far 
surpassed in elegance and sumptuousness that set 
for the dignitaries of the J^orthwest the day before, 
and the dining-hall glowed and glittered with the 
most brilliant of the combined decorations brought 
from the other halls of the fair. 

At twelve o'clock precisely, all being in readiness, 
the doors were opened, and the guests of the day 
marched into the hall. It was a bronzed, scarred, 
emaciated, halt, blind, deaf, crippled, skeleton corps, 
some without arms, some without legs, some swing- 
ing painfully on crutches, some leaning feebly on 
those stronger than themselves, all bearing evidence in 
their persons that they had suffered for their country. 
*' Brave Boys are They ! " crashed the band. The 
ladies waved ffags and handkerchiefs, and, according 
to the programme they had marked out for them- 
selves, essayed a cheer. But it was drowned in 
audible sobs, as they gazed on the poor boys who 
were their guests. They were slowly seated at table, 
and then with eyes humid with tears, and voice 



452 SOBS Al^Tt CHEERS. 

tremulous with emotion, Anna Dickinson, a fair 
young girl orator at that time, welcomed them in 
eloquent words, in behalf of the managers of the 
fair. 

Grace was then said by the chaplain of Camp 
Douglas, and the waiters darted off for soup, fish, 
turkey, game, vegetables, pies, puddings, ices, tea, 
coffee, — anything that was called for. The poor 
fellows were served as brothers and sons would have 
been at home. Their food was carved for them, and 
their not over vigorous appetites were coaxed and 
catered to as though feasting were the supremest joy 
of life. Dinner was soou over, and then came the 
after-dinner talk. Speeches were made by chaplains 
and officers who happened to be present. 

" Three cheers for Abraham Lincoln ! a diamond 
in the rough!" proposed a manly voice; and so 
mighty a cheer thundered through the hall, that our 
guests seemed no longer invalids. Then " Three 
cheers for the ladies of the N^orthwestern Fair!" 
shook the hall again. The ladies, in their enthusi- 
asm, responded by " Three cheers for the soldiers ! " 
given with an accompaniment by the band and with 
the waving of flags and handkerchiefs. 

One of the chaplains projDosed that the soldiers 
should give the ladies a specimen of their battle cry, 
as they charged, double quick, on the enemy — and, 
unconsciously to themselves, the men took the atti- 
tude, and their faces assumed the determination of 
the charge as they uttered so prolonged, unearthly, 
and terrific a yell as beggars its description. We 
can imagine its power on the battle-field. 

The excitement was now at a white heat, and 
there was no vent for it but in music. The band 



THE DEAD REMEMBERED. 453 

played "The Ked, AVhite and Blue" — the boys 
joining in rousingly with their bass and tenor; the 
ladies adding soprano and contralto, and for the 
next hour all sang together, until the entire reper- 
toire of patriotic and soldier songs was exhausted. 
"Let us not forget our dead! " said Chaplain Day. 
" They who w^ent out Avith us to the conflict, but 
whose slumbers on the battle-field shall not be 
broken until the reveille of the resurrection morn 
shall awaken them. Let us remember that — 

" ' He who for country dies, dies not ; 
But liveth evermore ! ' " 

All stood in solemn silence, with uncovered heads, 
while the band wailed a dirge for those to whom 
God had granted a discharge from the conflict, and 
promoted to the ranks of the crowned immortals. A 
doxology was the only fitting close to the hour, and 
a thousand or more of voices joined in singing 
" Praise God, from whom all blessings flow ! " Then 
with swelling hearts and quivering voices, with 
tremulous clasping of the hands, and broken words 
of thanksgiving, the boys slowly returned to the 
hospitals. 

" We are not worth all this. We have not earned 
this kindness," they said. " But on our next battle- 
field, the memory of this day shall make us braver 
and stronger." 

Is there but One step from the sublime to the 
ridiculous? I hesitate to give the finale, but, as a 
faithful historian, I must tell the truth. " This is the 
soldiers' day!" said a practical woman at the door, 
as the boys were making their exit. " Let us crowd 
into it all the good things we can. Hold on, boys! 



454: IN FOR A FROLIC. 

Run, John, run round the corner, bring some boxes 
of fine cigars ! " A moment's delay, and the cigars 
came. And tlien to every soldier was given, as he 
went out, cigars and matches. We saw them depart 
with an aureole of smoke about their brows, if not of 
glory. To those whose feebleness detained them in 
the hospitals, boxes of tempting and delicate viands 
were sent, — such as the surgeons endorsed, — and 
committees of ladies accompanied them, and served 
them to the invalids, sometimes in bed. They even 
spent the larger part of the day in the hospitals, 
helping the poor fellows to have a veritable gala day. 

Xow followed a scene. Two hundred young- 
gentlemen from the business circles of the city, had 
proposed a dinner to the ladies of the dining-hall, 
and as the boys went out, these gentlemen came in. 
The girl waiters doifed their white aprons and caps, 
and the gentlemen begged them to retire to Upper 
Bryan Hall, while the tables were reset with the 
help of servants, and the dinner prepared. After an 
hour or two of w^aiting, the ladies were escorted to 
the dining-hall. The gentlemen had attired them- 
selves grotesquely in the uniform of white aprons 
and caps, which they regarded as the serving-gear 
of the fair. The motley condition of the tables gave 
evidence of the handiwork of unskilled men, and not 
of servants. It was evident they w^ere in for a 
frolic. 

Who that partook of that dinner will ever forget 
it? Happy she who did not receive a baptism of 
oyster soup or coffee, as the gentlemen waiters ran 
hither and thither like demented men, colliding with 
each other, to the great damage of tureens and coffee 
urns, and the immense bespattering of the fair ones 



"completely tuckered out!" 455 

waited upon. We saw one city editor industriously 
peddling toothpicks before the soup was removed. 
Another, presiding at the coffee urn, was so intent 
upon a flirtation with his next neighbor, that he 
forgot to turn the faucet when the first cup was 
filled, and was not reminded of it until the urn was 
emptied on the floor, and a river of cofi"ee was run- 
ning underneath the table, among the feet of the 
ladies. For an hour fun and frolic held sway. 
Shout after shout of laughter pealed from the merry 
girls at the contretemps of their servitors. I*^ow and 
then came a little shriek at a smash of crockery or 
the upsetting of a cofiee cup. Faster and faster ran 
round the awkward waiters, until, at last, the mas- 
culine attendants, whose caps had fallen on their 
necks, and whose aprons had got twisted hind-side- 
before, gave up in utter despair. They declared 
themselves " completely tuckered out," and begged 
the ladies to help themselves to anything they liked, 
or could find. 

In the evening, not satisfied with the fun of the 
afternoon, the young people, aided by carpenters, 
cleared away the booths, working like Titans, and 
wound up the fair with a vigorous dance, that closed 
as the clock struck eleven. At the same time, the 
German ladies of the fair gave a grand ball at Met- 
ropolitan Hall, which was largely attended, and pecu- 
niarily was a great success. 

And so ended the Northwestern Fair, whose net 
receipts were nearly eighty thousand dollars, with 
unsold articles, of sterling value, slowly disposed of 
afterwards, to make the sum total nearly a hundred 
thousand. Other fairs followed in quick succession — 
in Cleveland, Boston, Pittsburg, St. Louis, and finally 



456 OTHER FAIRS FOLLOWED. 

in N^ew York and Philadelphia. But none of them 
were characterized by the enthusiasm, originality, 
earnestness, and contagious patriotism that glorified 
this, and made it forever memorable* 

ITEMS AND TISrCIDElSrTS. 

Several incidents which came to my knowledge 
during the fair are worthy of record. I will give a 
few. 

In one of the Southwestern hospitals there died a 
young soldier whose home was in Chicago. He left 
an only sister to mourn the loss of the strong arm 
and brave heart uecessar}^ to her in the fierce battle 
of life. After his death there was found in his pock- 
ets a small sum of money, all the worldly wealth he 
had. His sister regarded the money as too sacred to 
be applied to daily uses. She purchased with it a 
quantity of worsted, out of which she wrought an 
afghan, memories of him who died dimming her eyes 
and saddening her heart as she crocheted. She 
brought it to the fair, and, modestly donating it, told 
its history. It was an article of exquisite beauty, and 
was sold at an early day, for one hundred dollars. 

One of the contrabands from Montgomery, Ala., 
brought an offering to the fair, and, presenting it to 
the secretary, asked, "Please, missus, may dis yer 
sheet, what I got wi' my own money, and stitched 
wi' my own hands, be sold for Massa Linkum's 
sojers?" She held forth a large bleached cotton 
sheet, very neatly made. She was a comely woman, 
and gave her histoiy briefly as follows : " I'se raised 
in Jones County, Ala. I'se fifty year old, missus. 
I'se left nine chillen in de land o' bondage. Ten o' 
my lambs de great Lord took, and dey's done gone 



"it is all I HAVE." 457 

home to glory." Out of twenty children she had but 
one with her. Her touching story, pathetically told, 
caused a speedy sale of her offering, which brought 
much more than its actual value. 

One of the ladies of the fair was called to the door 
of Bryan Hall by the doorkeeper, with the state- 
ment that " an old man at the ticket office wanted to 
see her, but dared not come in." She obeyed the 
summons, and found a white-haired old man, eighty 
years old and bowed with infirmity. He said: "My 
wife and I are very poor. We had two sons; both 
went into the army. One was killed on the 'Hatchie, 
and the other is still in the service. We want to do 
something for this fair, but it's so little that we are 
ashamed to speak of it." On being assured that the 
smallest gifts were acceptable, he continued: "We 
keep a few chickens; and, if they will do you any 
good, I will kill four, and bring them to-morrow all 
cooked. My wife is as old as I am; but she is a 
good cook, and will dress and roast them herself." 
Tickets of admission for himself and wife were given 
him; and the grateful words of the lady made his 
withered face glow with pleasure. The next day, at 
dinner time, he came again, with the nicely roasted 
fowls, covered with a snowy napkin. "I wish I 
could do more, lady," he said; " but it's all I have." 

An elderly German woman, with toil-hardened 
hands, came to the managers, and in broken English 
told her story. She was a widow with two sons, one 
in the army, and the other a mere lad, whom she sup- 
ported by taking in washing. She offered fifty cents, 
and begged the ladies to " please accept that." 

A brave fellow from Chickamauga, who had lain 
for weeks in the hospital, was sent to Illinois on fur- 



458 "MAKY, I MUST SEE THAT FAIR." 

lough, with the hope that his wounded leg would 
heal, and his health improve. His wife came to 
Chicago to meet him, and to help him complete his 
journey. He was very eager to attend the fair. 
" Mary, I must see that fair," he said, " if it takes my 
last dollar!" He was brought in an invalid chair, 
and carried through Bryan Hall, his wife accompany- 
ing him. The brightness of the bazar dazzled him. 
It was an amazing contrast to the battle-field, hospi- 
tals, and barracks he had left behind. A silver cake- 
basket was being sold in shares at a dollar each. 
The style was pretty, and the silver was of the value 
of coin. " I'd like to take a share for you, Mary," 
said the wounded hero; and a half shadow fell over 
the face of the wife as she saw his last dollar go. 
The drawing commenced, and to the wounded brave 
from Chickamauga was delivered the cake-basket. 
His ticket had drawn it. There was great delight 
over his good luck. 

" I enjoyed more seeing how glad the ladies were 
that I was the lucky one," said the happy fellow 
afterwards, " than I did in getting the cake-basket." 

Half a dozen young ladies from Como, 111., sent 
five barrels of potatoes to the fair, which they had 
planted, hoed, and dug, with their own hands. A 
similar contribution came from Pekin, 111., from a 
young lady who " had dedicated a portion of her 
garden to the soldiers." 

A poor contraband mother from Lake Superior 
sent socks knit by herself for her own son, also a 
runaway slave, but who went to an early grave while 
serving in the army of freedom. When the black 
woman fled from slavery, she went with her baby boy 
to the cold isolation of the upjDcr lake, feeling safe 



THE VISITOR RECOGNIZED. 459 

with him in that remote locality. The war broke out, 
giving him a chance to strike for the freedom of his 
downtrodden race; and though he had not attained 
his majority, the boy enlisted. He was ordered, 
with his regiment, to the very place of his birth, and 
in the first engagement he fell a martyr to liberty. 

Every day saw large numbers of military men in 
the fair, many of them officers of high rank, and not 
a few whose feats of bravery and brilliant daring 
have given them a place in history. They were 
always the lions of the hour, and were the recipi- 
ents of unniimbered coiu'tesies from the ladies. One 
morning, a tall, slender, fine-looking gentleman, mod- 
estly dressed in citizen's clothes, entered the hall, and 
made the tour of the booths, his numerous questions 
evincing more than ordinary interest. Soon a soldier 
who had lost a leg, and walked with a crutch, sprang 
from his seat, and hobbled towards the young man 
as fast as his enfeebled condition would allow. For- 
getting the military salute in his eagerness, grasping 
him by the hand, with his face working with emotion, 
he said, " General, J was with you at Pea Ridge ! " 

Up came another, with emaciated face and figure, 
but with the same breathless gladness, " General, I 
fought under you at Prairie Grove ! " Then oth- 
ers : " General, I was with you at Vicksburg ! " " I 
marched with you through Arkansas ! " "I have 
been with you ever since we left Dubuque! " — until, 
pretty soon, the almost stripling was surrounded 
with soldiers, all more or less liors de comhat, and 
was shaking hands with them, congratulating them, 
and reciprocating their joy in the heartiest manner. 

" Who is he ? " was whispered around the hall. 
" He is certainly a distinguished officer, who is here 

28 



460 SOLDIERS SEND GREETINGS. 

without shoulder-straps." Soon the Dubuque ladies 
caught a glimpse of him, and then there was another 
rush. The soldiers gave way for the ladies from 
Dubuque and Pittsburg — some of them dear friends 
of his early life — and for a few minutes he seemed 
in greater danger from encircling arms, and salutes 
not military, than when at Pea Kidge and Prairie 
Grove. It was Major-General Frank Herron, whose 
braveiy in the battles of the Southwest made him 
worthy of honor and warm regard. 

A very lively interest was felt in the fair by tjie 
soldiers in the Southwestern hospitals, who, since 
they could do no more, sent innumerable letters and 
messages to the ladies engaged in it. There were 
three thousand in the hospitals at Memphis, Tenn., 
who sent their greetings to the ladies in the follow- 
ing letter, written at their request, and sent by 
them: — 

Memphis, Tenn., Oct. 28, 1863. 

To the Managers of the Nortlixoestern Fair : 

Ladies, — The sick and wounded soldiers in the hospitals at 
Memphis send you greeting, and, through you, return thanks to 
the women of the Northwest for their* efforts to alleviate our 
wants and sufferings. We are deeply grateful for the sympathy 
manifested towards us in words and deeds. We are cheered, 
comforted, and encouraged. Though absent, we are not forgotten 
by you, nor shall we be, when returned to duty in the field, as we 
trust we soon may be. We shall be nerved once more to fight on 
until this unholy rebellion is crushed, and the old flag once more 
floats over a free, united, and happy people. In the light of your 
smiles, and in this great earnest of your sympathy, we have an 
additional incentive never to relax our efforts for our native land, 
whose women are its brightest ornaments, as well as its truest 
patriots. May your success be only measured by your love to 
home and country. In behalf of three thousand soldiers at 
Memphis, [Signed] T. B. Robb, 

U. S. Sanitary Agent for Illinois. 



TRIBUTE TO WOMAIf. 461 

A similar letter was sent from the hospitals at 
Chattanooga, Tenn. It bore the signatures of thou- 
sands of the wounded men, traced in every conceiv- 
able style of chirography. Many of the autographs 
indicated the extreme feebleness of the writers. Many 
of the men who signed it, and were eager to do so, 
were standing, "just on the boundaries of the spirit 
land " ; and some of them passed over the dark river 
of death before the letter was mailed for Chicago. 

The following tribute to the women " whose efforts 
in behalf of the great fair at Chicago, for the benefit 
of the Sanitary Commission, accomplished such bene- 
ficent results for his sick and wounded comrades," 
was written by an Illinois soldier at Chattanooga. 
Has woman ever received a more exquisite tribute? 

A SOLDrER's PSALM OF WOMAN". 

Down all the shining lapse of days, 

That grow and grow forever, 
In truer love, and brighter praise, 

Of the Almighty Giver — 
Whatever godlike impulses 

Have blossomed in the human, 
The most divine and fair of these 

Sprang from the soul of woman. 

Her heart it is preserves the flower 

Of sacrificial duty, 
Which, blown across the blackest hour, 

Transfigures it to beauty. 
Her hands, that streak these solemn years 

Wi.th vivifying graces, 
And clasp the foreheads of our fears 

With light from higher places. 

Oh, wives and mothers, sanctified 
By holy consecrations. 



462 THE soldier's psalm. 

Turning our weariness aside 
"With blessed ministrations ! 

Oh, maidens, in whose dewy eyes 
Perennial comforts glitter, 

Untangling war's dark mysteries. 
And making sweet the bitter — 

In desolate paths, or dangerous posts, 

By places which, to-morrow, 
Shall be unto these bannered hosts 

Aceldamas of sorrow ; 
We hear the sound of helping feet — 

We feel your soft caressings — 
And all our life starts up to greet 

Your lovingness with blessings 1 

On cots of pain, on beds of woe, 

Where stricken heroes languish. 
Wan faces smile, and sick hearts grow 

Triumphant over anguish. 
While souls that starve in lonely gloom, 

Flash green with odorous praises, 
And all the lowly pallets bloom 

With, gratitude's white daisies. 

Oh, lips, that from our wounds have suckea 

The fever and the burning ! 
Oh, tender lingers, that have plucked 

The madness from our mourning ! 
Oh, hearts, that beat so loyal true, 

For soothing and for saving ! 
God send our hopes back unto you, 

Crowned with immortal having ! 

Thank God ! oh, love, whereby we know 

Beyond our little seeing. 
And feel serene compassions flow 

Around the ache of being ; — 
Lo, clear o'er all the pain and dread 

Of our most sore afiliction, 
The sacred wings of Peace are spread 

In broodins: benediction ! 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

SHERMAN'S MARCH TO THE SEA — DEATH-BLOW TO THE RE- 
BELLION— SURRENDER OF LEE— ASSASSINATION OF PRES- 
IDENT LINCOLN — THE MARCH OF EVENTS. 

The End draws near — Sherman's ISIarch to the Sea — He finds the South- 
ern Confederacy a Shell to be easily crushed — Much Anxiety felt at the 
North for the Result — He takes Savannah, with its immense Stores, 
and informs the President of his Gift — The South surprised — English 
Journals prophesy Failure — Reaches the Atlantic Coast — Co-operates 
with Grant and Lincoln — Richmond evacuated — Lee surrenders — 
Delirious Joy of the Nation — Characteristic Procession improvised in 
Chicago — Lincoln assassinated — Joy swallowed up in passionate Sor- 
row — Disbanding of the Army — Motley Treasures brought Home by 
Soldiers — Eager to reach Home — Gladness of the Nation at the Return 
of Peace. 

)S the day drew near when tlie death-blow 
would be given to the rebellion, a hushed 
expectanc}^ settled over the country. The 
return of peace was longed for with an 
intensity not to be expressed in words; and 
the movements of the great armies as they 
drew more closely together for a last, final grapple, 
were watched with indescribable eagerness. There 
was no abatement of the iron resolve that the rebel- 
lion should be conquered. If it had been necessary 
to prolong the war another period of four yeai's to 
accomplish this, the ^orth would have girt itself 
anew with will and persistence, and matched the 

46a 




464 Sherman's march to the sea. 

emergency. But it was evident that the end was 
drawing near — that the decisive blow was soon to 
be struck ; and the nervous strain on the people, who 
waited and listened for this desired consummation, 
interfered seriously with the ordinary pursuits of 
business and life. 

General Sherman had prepared for his march to 
the sea. Rome and Atlanta were burned, with their 
foundries and tanneries, their merchandise and store- 
houses, their flour-mills and oil refineries, with thou- 
sands of bales of cotton, millions of dollai's' worth of 
freight, bridges, turning-tables, freight-sheds, railroad 
depots, — all were soon in a fierce flame of fire. The 
few people who remained in Atlanta fled, frightened 
by the conflagration. In November, Sherman was 
detached from all his communications, and ready to 
move. When about to start, he wrote to Admiral Por- 
ter, on the Atlantic coast, to " look out for him about 
Christmas, from Hilton Head to Savannah." To his 
wife he wrote : " This is my last letter from here. You 
will hear from me hereafter through rebel sources." 

For twenty-four days Sherman's army disappeared 
from the view of the l^orth, lost in the very heart of 
the rebellion. About sixty-five thousand men swept 
over the country, in a track fifty miles wide. General 
Kilpatrick's cavalry, five thousand strong, moved in 
front and on each flank; and the advance was from 
fifteen to twenty miles a day. The holidays found 
Sherman in Georgia, in possession of Savannah, 
which he presented to the President in the following 
terse despatch, — 

" I beg to present you, as a Christmas gift, tlie city of Savannah, 
with one hundred and fifty guns, plenty of ammunition, and 
twenty-five thousand bales of cotton." 



THE CONTEDERACY A HOLLOW SHELL. 465 

There proved to be thirty-eight thousand bales. 
Three steamers were cajDtiired, besides locomotives 
and cars; and eight hundred of the enemy were taken 
prisoners. The success of this march through the 
South was not believed in; and, from the middle of 
^N^ovember until Sherman was heard of at Savannah, 
there was great anxiety at the l^orth. The South 
derided this proposed march to the sea; and English 
journals, with scarce an exception, j)rophesied only 
disastrous results. General Kilpatrick, who made 
an extensive raid into the South, had declared " the 
Southern Confederacy to be but a hollow sHell, which 
could be easily crushed "; but his statement was re- 
ceived as the utterance of exti'eme foolhardiness. 
Even General Grant, in reply to Sherman's request 
to be allowed to undertake this enterprise, had written 
him: " If you were to cut loose from your communi- 
cations, I do not believe you would meet Hood's 
army; but you would be bushwhacked by all the old 
men, little boys, and such railroad guards as are still 
left at home." 

" This march could not have been made through 
one of the ^Northern states," says a writer. " And 
slavery, which the South boasted was an element of 
strength in war, because it allowed all the whites to 
enter the army, and yet secured the cultivation of the 
soil, was found, in an invasion, to be an element of 
fatal weakness. The working population in a free 
state would have hung round the flanks of such an 
invading army like lightning around the edge .of a 
thunder-cloud. But in the South that population 
was all on the side of the invaders; in short, it was 
an element of strength to us." 

Having rested his army at Savannah, and com- 



466 THROUGH THE CAROLINAS. 

pleted his plans, General Sherman commenced his 
campaign through the Carolinas. His movements 
now attracted the attention of the Avhole country. 
" What will this wonderful man do next? " was the 
question in every one's mouth. Some believed that 
he would strike Augusta. Others were certain that 
Charleston was the place he wished to caj^ture. But 
it was his determination to take his army through the 
heart of the two hostile Carolinas, five hundred miles 
noi'th, to Goldsboro'. This he did. On the road he 
pursued such tactics that on the night of the 16th of 
February, Charleston, S. C, was evacuated, and the 
Union flag once more floated over Fort Sumter. 

Then pushing forward his columns, as though his 
objective point was Raleigh instead of Goldsboi-o', 
he tiastened onward, completely befooling the foe. 
]^ow he made a feint in one direction, and now in 
another, wading through boggy marshes and swollen 
rivers; over inundated lowlands and treacherous 
quicksands, his route illumined by the conflagrations 
of j^roperty, enkindled by the enemy, in the bitter- 
ness of hate and despair. At last he reached Golds- 
Ijoro'. Then, turning his army over to General 
Schofield, he hastened to City Point, where he met 
General Grant and President Lincoln, who gave him 
a hearty welcome; and the trio consulted together 
respecting the next move to be made. 

Great preparations had been made for the relief of 
General Sherman's army when it should appear on 
the Atlantic coast. Hospital sup23lies of every va- 
riety, and in immense quantities, were in readiness 
at Philadelphia and Washington, with surgeons and 
nurses to accompanj^ them. Ships were loaded with 
these sanitary stores, and with food for the men also ; 



GREAT BATTLE AT PETERSBURG. 467 

for it was expected that the men who " marched from 
Atlanta to the sea " would be famished and ex- 
liausted — a skeleton army, requiring medical skill 
and careful nursing to save them from death. 

But the sanitary supplies and medical skill were 
uncalled for. Sherman's men came out from their 
long march hale and hearty, having foraged on the 
enemy and lived on the fat of the land, but brown 
and barefoot, ragged and dirty. It was indeed a tat- 
terdemalion army that invaded the Carolinas. In 
a fortnight afterwards, the quartermaster supplied 
twenty thousand of the men with shoes, and a hun- 
dred thousand with clothing, and everything neces- 
sary for entering on another campaign. 

The march of events was now very rapid. Gen- 
eral Grant wrote to Sheridan, " I now feel like end- 
ing the matter, if it is possible to do so before going 
back. We will all act together as one army here^ 
until it is seen what can be done with the enemy." 
Sunday, the 2d of April arrived, and all saw the 
beginning of the end. A great battle had been 
raging near Petersburg for some days, which ended 
in the complete rout of the enemy, who fled in con- 
fusion, leaving all their guns and a large number of 
prisoners in the hands of the Union army. That 
night, both Petersburg and Richmond were evac- 
uated. 

But as long as General Lee's army had a collective 
existence, it could not be said that the war was 
ended. This fact was impressed on every mind, and 
on no one so strongly as on General Grant. Pre- 
caution had been taken to prevent the rebel army 
escaping South when it evacuated Richmond. And 
now, hemmed in by Sheridan and the Appomattox 



468 LEE SURRENDERS TO GRANT. 

Kiver on one side, by Meade on another, by Hancock 
on a third, and Thomas on the fourth, the destruction 
of that army was only a question of time. The 
celerity of General Grant's movements precipitated 
the surrender of Lee. And on the 9th of April, 
1865, General Lee surrendered his sword and the 
Army of Northern Virginia to the eminent Lieuten- 
ant-General commanding the armies of the United 
States. The rebel army of Johnston, with Sherman 
in his front and Grant in his rear, must dissolve like 
the baseless fabric of a vision, or likewise surrender 
to the victorious armies of the Union. The great 
rebellion had ended, and the Union remained intact 
and undivided! 

The day foi' which all loyal souls had prayed and 
waited for four long years had come at last. The 
nation w^as delirious with the intoxication of good 
news telegraphed from Washington, — '' Lee has 
SURRENDERED TO Grant ! " Just as the Sunday 
evening church services were ended, the bells of 
Chicago -clanged out the glad tidings, and the event 
they rejoiced in was instinctively understood by ' 
Jleart. All were waiting for it; all knew it could 
not be long delayed. The iron-throated cannon took 
up the jubilant tidings, and thundered it from a 
hundred guns. Bonfires blazed it joyfully in all the 
streets, rockets flashed it everywhere on the night 
air, the huzzas and songs of the people rolled out 
from the heart of the city to the suburbs, and the 
ordinary quiet of the Sunday night was broken by 
universal rejoicing. 

The next day, the rejoicing was renewed with 
more abandon than ever. Bells pealed afresh, cannon 
thundered anew, the air was rent with ten thousand 



DEMONSTRATIONS 0¥ JOY. 469 

hurrahs. Everybody saluted his neighbor with min- 
gled laughter and tears. Flags floated from steeples 
and housetops and windows, — they streamed, from 
wagons and carriages and car-roofs, — of tiny pro- 
portions, men wore them in their button-holes, and 
women in their hats. At every street corner on© 
caught the sound of martial music, mingled with the 
ringing bass and tenor of manly voices singing 
patriotic songs. Courts adjourned^ banks closed, 
the post-office was summarily shut up, schools were 
dismissed, business was suspended. The people 
poui'cd into the streets, frenzied with gladness, until 
there seemed to be no men and women in Chicago, — ■ 
only crazy, grown-up boys and girls. 

A procession was hastily improvised, — =the peo- 
ple's jDi'ocession, — measuring miles in length, and 
cheered by the tens of thousands lining the streets 
through which it passed. On they came, — ■ the 
blue-coated soldiers stepping proudly to glorious 
music, — and shouts rent the air, and white hand- 
kerchiefs floated from the windows, and gentle 
hands waved them welcome. Then followed the 
brazen-mouthed cannon, drawn by noble horses, that 
arched their necks and stepped loftily, as if conscious 
they had the " peace-makers " in their train. On 
they came, — - men on horseback, men a-foot, six 
abreast, led by the Veteran Reserve Corps Band, 
thrilling the air with the triumphant strain, " Glory, 
Glory, Hallelujah!" The great multitude — tens of 
thousands of men, women, and children — ■ caught up 
the refrain, and joined in the glorious chorus, sing- 
ing, with heart and soul and might, " Glory, Glory, 
Hallelujah ! " 

Still they came. All the drays in the city; all the 



470 " GLORY, GLORY, HALLELUJAH ! "' 

steam fire-engines, witli tlie red-costumed firemen; 
all the express wagons; all the post-ofiice wagons; 
all the omnibuses, loaded with men, and boys, and 
soldiers, ringing bells, beating drums, blowing 
trumpets, and fifes, and every manner of instru- 
ment that makes a joyful sound; blossoming with 
flags, vocal with hurrahs, beaiing banners with elo- 
quent mottoes, firing guns and pistols into the air, 
and in every conceivable manner testifying their un- 
bounded gladness. 

As the long procession moved on, fathers pointed 
out its peculiar features to their sons, and charged 
them to remember the day, and its history, to tell to 
their children. Mothers lifted their little daughters, 
to read the mottoes emblazoned on the banners, and 
to explain the emblems that thronged the line of 
march. Were there ever before two such carnival 
days crowded into one short week ? Only a week 
before, the chords of the national heart were swept 
by the wildest ecstasy of joy, as tidings of the fall 
of Eichmond flashed over the wires — and now the 
surrender of Lee made the nation fairly drunken with 
delight. Peace had returned, — 

" Not like a mourner bowed 
For honor lost, and dear ones wasted ; 
But proud, to meet a people proud, 
With eyes that told of triumph tasted ! 
Who came, M'ith hand upon the hilt, 
And step, that proved her Victory's daughter — 
Longing for her, our spirits wilt. 
Like shipwrecked men's, on rafts, for Avater. 

Peace, such as mothers prayed for, Avhen 
They kissed their sons, with lips that quivered ; 
Which brings fair wages for brave men — 
A nation saved ! A race delivered ! " 



PRESIDENT LINCOLN ASSASSINATED. 471 

From the height of this exultation the nation was 
swiftly precipitated to the very depths of despair. 
On the fourteenth of April, President Lincoln was 
assassinated, and the great joy of the previous two 
weeks was drowned in passionate soitow. Every- 
thing was forgotten in the presence of this over- 
whelming calamity. The air was solemn with the 
toll of bells. Flags, bordered with crape, floated at 
half-mast. Minute guns reverberated from vale to 
hill, from mountain to mountain, and across the con- 
tinent. Cities and towns and hamlets of the broad 
land were draped in black. Business was suspended. 
Men and women wept. At the call of the bells, the 
churches were thronged with weeping congregations. 
'No attempt at comfort, nor any explanation of the 
bitter dispensation was given, but all seemed be- 
numbed by the national bereavement, l^ever was 
a month so crowded with the conflicting emotions of 
exultation and despair, as was the month of April, 
1865. Richmond fell on the third. General Lee sur- 
rendered on the ninth, President Lincoln was assas- 
sinated on the fourteenth. 

Despite the bitterness of the times, the honesty, 
simplicity, and kindliness of President Lincoln had 
greatly endeared him to the national heart, and the 
people were thrilled with horror at the manner of his 
death. He had piloted the nation wisely through its 
stormiest years. Lacking superior mental qualities, 
and failing of careful educational preparation for his 
high office, singleness of purpose had guided him, 
and the wisdom of his presidential life placed him 
by the side of Washington, as his peer. Enemies, 
as well as friends, bewailed his death. 

The funeral obsequies were celebrated in the Ex- 



472 THE COUNTRY DRAPED IN MOURNING. 

ecutive Mansion in Washington, and then the body 
of the dead ruler was borne to his former home in 
Springfield, 111. The whole land was draped in 
mourning, and the tolling of bells, and the wail of 
funereal music accompanied the cortege, as it moved 
across the continent on its solemn mission, to the 
burial of the coffined corse. 

And now began the disbanding of the army. 
Regiments returned to their homes on almost every 
train. The army of the Potomac, and the army led 
by Sherman, were henceforth only to be known in 
history. Comrades who had shared together the 
perils of the picket-line and the storm of the battle; 
exposure to the elements, and suffering from wounds; 
the fatigue of the march, and the grapple with 
swamp fever; the longing for home, and the inex- 
pressible luxury of letters from dear ones left be- 
hind, now bade each other adieu. Scarred and 
maimed, these defenders of the Republic exchanged 
the discomforts and privations of the camp, for the 
solacing influence of their own firesides. Hence- 
forth, instead of the everlasting drum corps, and the 
crack of musketry, they were to hear the voices of 
wives and children, parents and friends. 

They did not return as they went forth — strong 
in numbers, with gleaming guns, stainless uniforms, 
and brilliant banners. But reduced in strength, 
dust-stained, battle-scarred, war-worn, with faded 
uniforms, tattered flags, sometimes with an empty 
coat-sleeve, sometimes swinging on crutches. When- 
ever it was possible, as regiments passed through 
Chicago on their way home, they were publicly 
received. Addresses were made to them, and dinner 
furnished at the Soldiers' Home, where the ladies 



MOTLEY COLLECTION OF TREASURES. 473 

were always in readiness to feed two hundred men. 
Although they bore the unmistakable marks of 
war in their appearance, they carried themselves 
proudly, and responded with a will to the cheers 
that were given them. 

So motley a collection of treasures, picked up in 
the South, as the returning soldiers bore home, one 
does not often see. One had a yellow pnppy, a little 
barking nuisance, which nestled in his bosom, 
although he was so sick with chills and fever, as 
to be almost incapable of taking care of himself. 
Another had a shrill-voiced, but gay parrot, in a 
cumbersome cage — another a silken-haired spaniel 
— another a pet rabbit — another a kitten from Fort 
Sumter — another a mocking-bird, and the thought- 
ful fellow had cut off the skirts of his blouse, to 
wrap around the songster's cage, to keep him warm. 
They had relics, shells from the Gulf of Mexico, 
curious insects in boxes, and slips of rare shrubbery, 
set in potatoes, which they were going to plant at 
home. 

With some, there was a great parade of washing, 
brushing, and furbishing up, so as to look respect- 
able in their proposed walks about the city, while 
waiting their departing train. These toilet perform- 
ances met with every species of comical interference, 
from their mischievous comrades. Apple, orange, 
nut, and cake peddlers drove a thriving business 
among them, every man within reach of the apple 
woman investing largely in her wares. Hilarious, 
and full of rough fun, they waited impatiently for 
the hour when they would leave Chicago. Their 
conversation was mainly of the campaigns through 
which they had passed, and the homes to which they 



474 AXXIOUS TO GET HOME. 

were going-. Sometimes, as they recounted the 
changes that had taken place in their absence, a 
choking sob silenced them, or they dashed into a 
frolic to conceal their emotions. 

" I left four children when I went away," said 
a middle-aged man; "and now, there is but one left. 
I shall miss my three little girls." 

" My mother has died since I went into the ser- 
vice," said another in a Ioav tone. 

" They are going to put me off at Denton," said a 
third, with an anxious face ; " my wife is very low 
with consumption, and if I should be detained long, 
I might never see her." 

For some, poor fellows! other changes were near 
at hand. For the labored breath, the incessant 
cough, the attenuated figure, and the hectic flush 
predicted a not far distant promotion to the higher 
ranks, where wars are unknown. 

There were enlisted into the service, during the 
war, 2,850,000 men. By the first of ]N"ovember, 1865, 
there had been mustered out 1,023,021 men, and the 
army was reduced to eleven thousand soldiers. 
There were killed in battle during the war, fifty-six 
thousand. There died of wounds and disease in the 
military hospitals, two hundred and -nineteen thou- 
sand. There died, after discharge, from disease con- 
tracted during the service, eighty thousand — making 
a total loss of about three hundred thousand men. 
About two hundred thousand were crij^pled or per- 
manently disabled. One hundred and thirty-four thou- 
sand sleep in nameless graves. Of colored troops, 
one hundred and eighty thousand enlisted, and thirty 
thousand died. The national debt June 30, 1865> 
amounted to $2,680,000,000.00. During the war, the 



GENEROUS GIFTS OF THE PEOPLE. 475 

Sanitary Commission disbursed in money and sup- 
plies, not less than 1 25,000,000. The Christian 
Commission disbursed $4,500,000. 

These figures give a better idea of the war of the 
rebellion, which was gigantic in character, and of 
the immense sacrifices made by the people, than any 
elaborate statement in words. The courage of the 
nation proved equal to the great emergency. Its 
patriotism never faltered, its faith in the permanency 
of the undivided Republic grew mightier as the 
contest was protracted. But never was a nation 
more profoundly thankful for the cessation of war 
than were the American people. They turned with 
infinite gladness to the duties of peace — they sought 
to forget the dark days of conflict through which 
they had toiled. Quietly, and without any friction, 
the vast army was resolved into its original elements, 
and soldiers became again civilians, members of 
homes, and components of families. A grateful 
nation still honors the memories of those who fell in 
the conflict, cares tenderly for those who were dis- 
abled, and cherishes their stricken families. 

2% 



CHAPTER XXIYo 



MOTHER BICKERDYKE — STORY OF A REMARKABLE WOMAN — 
HER MOTHERLY CARE OF THE "BOYS IN BLUE" — HOS- 
PITAL SIGHTS AND SCENES — ON THE BATTLE-FIELD AT 
NIGHT. 

A remarkable Woman — Sent into the Service at Cairo by Ladies of Gales- 
burg, 111. — Improvises a sick-diet Kitchen — Stratagem to detect the 
Thieves who steal her Delicacies — " Peaches don't seem to agree with 
you, eh?" — Colonel (now General)Grant removes the dishonest Offi- 
cials — Mother Bickerdyke after the Battle of Donelson — A Surgeon's 
Testimony — She extemporizes a Laundry — Is associated with Mrs. 
Porter of Chicago — After the Battle of Shiloh — " I get my Authority 
from the Lord God Almighty; have you anything that ranks higher ?" — 
Her System of foraging — Her "Night-Gowns " as hospital Shirts — "Say 
you jerked them from the Secesh, Boys! " — Experiences at Corinth — 
Finds a dying Soldier left in a Tent. 

^MOXG the hundreds of women who devoted 
a part or the whole of the years of the war 
to the care of the sick and wounded of the 
army, " Mother Bickerdyke " stands pre- 
eminent. Others were as heroic and conse- 
crated as she, as unwearied in labors, and as 
unselfish and self-sacrificing. But she was unique in 
method, extraordinary in executive ability, enthusi- 
astic in devotion, and indomitable in will. After her 
plans were formed, and her purposes matured, she 
carried them through triumphantly, in the teeth of 
the most formidable opposition. She gave herself to 
the rank and file of the army, — the private soldiers, 

476 




"mother bickeedyke." 477 

— for whom she had unbounded tenderness, and de- 
veloped ahuost hmitless resources of help and com- 
fort. 

To them she was strength and sweetness ; and for 
them she exercised sound, practical sense, a ready 
wit, and a rare intelligence, that made her a power 
in the hospital, or on the field. There was no peril 
she would not dare for a sick and wounded man, no 
official red tape of formality for which she cared 
more than for a common tow string, if it interfered 
with her in her work of relief. To their honor be it 
said, the " boys " reciprocated her affection most 
heartily. " That homely figure, clad in calico, wrapped 
in a shawl, and surmounted with a ' Shaker ' bonnet, 
is more to this army than the Madonna to a Catho- 
lic ! " said an officer, pointing to Mother Bickerdyke, 
as she emerged from the Sanitary Commission head- 
quarters, in Memphis, laden with an assortment of 
supplies. Every soldier saluted her as she passed; 
and those who were at leisure relieved her of her 
burden, and bore it to its destination. To the entire 
army of the West she was emphatically '■'Mother 
Bickerdyke." ^or have the soldiers forgotten her 
in her poverty and old age. They remember her 
to-day in many a tender letter, and send her many a 
small donation to eke out her scanty and irregular 
income. 

I was intimately associated with this remarkable 
woman during the war. Whenever she came to Chi- 
cago, on brief furloughs from army work, my house 
was her home. Utterly regardless of her own com- 
fort, and ignoring her personal needs, it was abso- 
lutely essential that some one should care for her; 
and this grateful work I took into my own hands. 



478 A REMARKABLE WOMAN. 

Whatever were her troubles, hindrances, or liabilities, 
I persuaded her to entrust them to me ; and, with the 
help of Mrs. Hoge, my inseparable co-worker, she 
was relieved of them. Little by little, I learned the 
story of her early life from her own lips, — a story 
of struggle with poverty, hard fate, and lack of 
opportunity, but glorified, as were her maturer years, 
by unselfishness and a spirit of helpfulness, that rec- 
ognized the claims of every needy creature. Such of 
the incidents of the following sketch as did not come 
under my own observation were narrated to me by 
Mrs. Bickerdyke herself. I only regret my inability 
to repeat them in her language. 

Mary A. Bickerdyke was born in Knox County, 
Ohio, July 19, 1817. She came of Revolutionary 
ancestors, and was never happier than when recount- 
ing fragments of her grandfather's history, who 
served under Washington during the whole seven 
years' struggle. When Washington made the memo- 
rable jDassage across the Delaware, her grandfather 
was one of those detailed to keep the fires burning 
on the shore, and crossed in one of the last boats. 
She married, when about twenty-five, a widow^er w^ith 
four or five children, by whom she has been beloved 
as if she were their natural mother, and between 
whom and her own two sons she has never seemed 
to know any difference. The marriage was a happy 
one, although I suspect that the immense energy and 
tireless industry of the busy wife proved, sometimes, 
annoying to the easy-going husband. His death oc- 
curred about two years before the breaking out of 
the war. I have heard her tell married men, in a sort 
of warning way, and very seriously, that she really 
believed her husband might have lived twenty years 



HER INFLUENCE FELT EVERYWHERE. 479 

longer, if he had not worn himself into the grave 
trying to boss her. " He wanted me to do everything 
in his way," she would say, " and just as he did ; but 
his way was too slow, I couldn't stand it." 

She was living in Galesburg, 111., and was a mem- 
ber of Rev. Dr. Edward Beecher's church when the 
war of the rebellion broke out. Hardly had the 
troops reached Cairo, when, from the sudden change 
in their habits, their own imprudence, and the igno- 
rance of their commanders on all sanitary points, 
sickness broke out among them. At the suggestion 
of the ladies of Galesburg, Avho had organized to do 
something for the country — they hardly knew what 
at that time — Mrs. Bickerdyke went down among 
them. Her well-known skill as a nurse, the fertility 
of her resources, her burning patriotism, and her pos- 
session of that rare combination of qualities which 
we call " common sense," had always enabled her to 
face any emergency. 

There was at that time little order, system, or dis- 
cipline anywhere. In company with Mary Saiford, 
then living in Cairo, she commenced an immediate 
systematic work in the camp and regimental hospi- 
tals at Cairo and Bird's Point. In the face of obsta- 
cles of every kind, she succeeded in working a great 
change for the better in the condition of the sick. 
The influence of her energetic, resolute, and sys- 
tematic spirit was felt everywhere; and the loyal 
people of Cairo gladly aided her in her voluntary 
and unpaid labors. A room was hired for her, and a 
cooking-stove set up for her especial use. She im- 
provised a sick-diet kitchen, and carried thence to 
the sick in the hospitals the food she had prepared 
for them. The first assortment of delicacies for the 



480 FACING A DRUNKEX SURGEON. 

sick sent to Cairo by the Chicago Sanitary Commis- 
sion, were given to her for distribution. Almost all 
the hospital supplies sent from the local societies of 
Chicago or Illinois, were, for a time, given to her 
trustworthy care. 

After the battle of Belmont she was appointed 
matron of the large post hospital at Cairo, which 
was filled with the wounded. She found time, how- 
ever, to work for, and to visit daily, every other hos- 
pital in the town. The surgeon who appointed her 
was skilful and competent, but given to drunken- 
ness; and he had little sympathy with his patients. 
He had filled all the positions in the hospitals with 
surgeons and officers of his sort, and bacchanalian 
carousals in the "doctor's room" were of frequent 
occurrence. In twenty-four hours Mother Bicker- 
dyke and he were at swords' points. She denounced 
him to his face; and, when the garments and delica- 
cies sent her for the use of the sick and wounded 
disappeared mysteriously, she charged their theft 
upon him and his subordinates. 

He ordered her out of his hospital, and threatened 
to put her out if she did not hasten her departure. 
She replied that "she should stay as long as the men 
needed her — that if he put her out of one door 
she should come in at another; and if he barred all 
the doors against her, she should come in at the win- 
dows, and that the patients w^ould help her in. When 
anybody left it would be he, and not she," she as- 
sured him, "as she had already lodged complaints 
against him at headquarters." "Conscience makes 
cowards of us all"; and he did not proceed to expel 
her, as he might have done, and probably would, if 
his cause had been just. 



"peaches don't agree with you, eh?" 481 

But though she was let alone, this was not the 
case with her supplies for the sick and wounded — 
they were stolen continually. She caught a wai-d- 
master dressed in the shirt, slippers, and socks that 
had been sent her, and, seizing him by the collar, in 
his own ward, she disrobed him sans ceremonie before 
the patients. Leaving him nude save his pantaloons, 
she uttered this parting injunction: "Now, you ras- 
cal, let's see what you'll steal next ! " To ascertain 
who were the thieves of the food she prepared, she 
resorted to a somewhat dangerous ruse. Purchasing 
a quantity of tartar emetic at a drug store, she mixed 
it with some stewed peaches that she had openly 
cooked in the kitchen, telling Tom, the cook, that 
" she wanted to leave them on the kitchen table over 
night to cool." Then she went to her own room to 
await results. 

She did not wait long. Soon the sounds of suffer- 
ing from the terribly sick thieves reached her ears, 
when, like a ^Nemesis, she stalked in among them. 
There they were, cooks, table-waiters, stewards, ward- 
masters, — all save some of the surgeons, — suffering 
terribly from the emetic, but more from the apprehen- 
sion that they were poisoned. " Peaches don't seem 
to agree with you, eh? " she said, looking on the 
pale, retching, groaning fellows with a sardonic 
smile. " Well, let me tell you that you will have a 
worse time than this if you keep on stealing! You 
may eat something seasoned with ratsbane one of 
these nights." 

Her complaints of theft were so grievous that 
there was sent her from the Sanitary Commission in 
Chicago a huge refrigerator with a strong lock. She 
received it with great joy, arid, putting into it the 



482 "l NEVER WANT TO SEE HIM AGAIN." 

delicacies, sick-diet, milk, and other hospital dainties 
of which she had especial charge, she locked it in 
presence of the cook, defying him and his compan- 
ions. "You have stolen the last morsel from me 
that you ever will," she said, " for I intend always to 
carry the key of the refrigerator in my pocket." 
That very night the lock of the refrigerator was 
broken, and everything appetizing inside was stolen. 
The depredation was clearly traced to Tom. This 
was too much for Mother Bickerdyke. Putting on 
her Shaker bonnet, she hastened to the provost- 
marshal, where she told her stoiy so effectively that 
he sent a guard to the hospital kitchen, arrested the 
thieving cook, and locked him in the guard-house. 
The arrest was made so quickly and silently, from 
the rear of the hospital, that only Mother Bickerdyke 
and two or three of the patients knew it; and, as she 
enjoined secrecy, Tom's sudden disappearance was 
involved in mystery. 

Greatly mollified at this riddance of her enem^^, 
Mother Bickerdyke courteously offered to " run the 

kitchen" until Tom returned; and Dr. accepted 

the proposal. 

" T am afraid," said the doctor, as days passed, and 
no tidings of Tom were received, " I am afraid that 
Tom went on a spree, and fell off the levee into the 
river, and is drowned." 

" Small loss ! " replied sententious Mother Bicker- 
dyke; " I never want to see him again." 

Going to the guard-house a week after, on some 
errand, the doctor discovered the lost cook, and 
immediately sought his release. He was too late. 
Mother Bickerdyke had made such charges against 
him, and the other subordinates of the hospital, that 



THE DRUNKEN SURGEON REMOVED. 483 

the provost-marshal investigated them. Finding 
them true, he laid them before General Grant — then 
Colonel — who was in command of that department. 
He ordered the men sent back to their regiments, 
and better officials were detailed in their places. 
Their removal was followed shortly after by that of 
the surgeon, and Dr. Taggart, one of the noblest 
men, was put in his place. The story of Mother 
Bickerdyke's exploits in this hospital preceded her 
in the ai'my. The rank and file learned that she was 
in an especial sense their friend, and dishonest and 
brutal surgeons and officials, of whom there were not 
a few, in the early months of the war, understood, in 
advance, that she could neither be bought nor fright- 
ened. Throughout the war, the prestige of her hos- 
pital life in Cairo clung to her. 

After the battle of Donelson, Mother Bickerdyke 
went from Cairo in the first hospital boat, and 
assisted in the removal of the wounded to Cairo, St. 
Louis, and Louisville, and in nursing those too badly 
wounded to be moved. The Sanitary Commission 
had established a depot of stores at Cairo, and on 
these she was allowed to make drafts ad libitum: for 
she was as famous for her economical use of sanitary 
stores as she had been before the war for her nota- 
ble housewifery. The hospital boats at that time 
were poorly equipped for the sad work of transport- 
ing the wounded. But this thoughtful woman, who 
made five. of the terrible trips from the battle-field of 
Donelson to the hospital, put on board the boat with 
which she was connected, before it started from 
Cairo, an abundance of necessaries. There was 
hardly a want expressed for which she could not 
furnish some sort of relief. 



484 TO ALL SHE MINISTERED TENDERLY. 

On the way to the battle-field, she systematized 
matters perfectly. The beds were ready for the 
occupants, tea, coiFee, soup and gruel, milk punch 
and ice water were prepared in large quantities, 
under her supervision, and sometimes by her own 
hand. When the wounded were brought on board, 
— mangled almost out of human shape; the frozen 
ground from which they had been cut adhering to 
them; chilled with the intense cold in which some 
had lain for tAventy-four hours; faint with loss of 
blood, physical agony, and lack of nourishment; 
racked with a terrible five-mile ride over frozen 
roads, in ambulances, or common Tennessee farm 
wagons, without springs; burning with fever; raving 
in delirium, or in the faintness of death, — Mother 
Bickerdyke's boat was in readiness for them. 

" I never saw anybody like her," said a volunteer 
surgeon who came on the boat with her. " There 
was really nothing for us surgeons to do but dress 
wounds and administer medicines. She drew out 
clean shirts or drawers from some corner, whenever 
they were needed. N^ourishment was ready for every 
man as soon as he was brought on board. Every 
one was sponged from blood and the frozen mire of 
the battle-field, as far as his condition allowed. His 
blood-stifiened, and sometimes horribly filthy uni- 
form, was exchanged for soft and clean hospital 
garments. Incessant cries of "Mother! Mother! 
Mother!" rang through the boat, in every note of 
beseeching and anguish. And to every man she 
turned with a heavenly tenderness, as if he were 
indeed her son. She moved about with a decisive 
air, and gave directions in such decided, clarion 
tones as to ensure prompt obedience. We all had 




ijj_u^lii|"ii nijujujuit J 



ON THE BATTLE-FIELD AT NIGHT. 487 

an impression that she held a commission from the 
Secretary of War, or at least from the Governor of 
Illinois. To every snrgeon who was superior, she 
held herself subordinate, and was as good at obeying 
as at commanding." And yet, at that time, she held 
no position whatever, and was receiving no compen- 
sation for her services; not even the beggarly pit- 
tance of thirteen dollars per month allowed by 
government to army nurses. 

At last it was believed that all the wounded had 
been removed from the field, and the relief parties 
discontinued their work. Looking from his tent at 
midnight, an officer observed a faint light flitting 
hither and thither on the abandoned battle-field, and, 
after puzzling over it for some time, sent his servant 
to ascertain the cause. It was Mother Bickerdyke, 
with a lantern, still groping among the dead. Stoop- 
ing down, and turning their cold faces towards her, 
she scrutinized them searchingly, uneasy lest some 
might be left to die uncared for. She could not rest 
while she thought any were overlooked who were 
yet living. 

Up to this time, no attempt had been made to save 
the clothing and bedding used by the wounded men 
on the transports and in the temporary hospitals. 
Saturated with blood, and the discharges of healing 
wounds, and sometimes swarming with vermin, it had 
been collected, and burned or buried. But this in- 
volved much waste ; and as these articles were in con- 
stant need, Mother Bickerdyke conceived the idea of 
saving them. She sent to the Commission at Chicago 
for washing-machines, portable kettles, and mangles, 
and cansed all this offensive clothing to be collected. 
She then obtained from the authorities a full detail of 



488 ENDURrN^G COLD AND HUNGER. 

contrabands, and superintended the laundering of all 
these hideously foul garments. Packed in boxes, it 
all came again into use at the next battle. 

This work once begun, Mother Bickerdyke never 
intermitted. Her washing-machines, her portable 
kettles, her posse of contrabands, an ambulance or 
two, and one or two handy detailed soldiers, were in 
her retinue after this, wherever she went. How 
much she saved to the government, and to the Sani- 
tary Commission, may be inferred from the fact that 
it was no unusual thing for three or four thousand 
pieces to pass through her extemporized laundry in a 
day. Each piece was returned to the hospital from 
which it was taken, or, if it belonged to no place in 
particular, was used in transitu. She saw it boxed, 
and the "boxes dejDosited in some safe place, where 
she could easily reach them in time of need. 

During a large part of her army life, Mrs Bicker- 
dyke was associated with, and most efficiently supple- 
mented by, Mrs. EHza Porter, wife of a Congrega- 
tionalist clergyman of Chicago. She entered the 
service in the beginning, as did her associate, and 
turned not from the work until the war ended. To- 
gether they worked in the hospitals, enduring cold 
and hunger, dwelling amid constant alarms, breath- 
ing the tainted air of wounds and sickness, and fore- 
going every species of enjoyment save that which 
comes from the consciousness of duties well done. 
Unlike in all respects, they harmonized admirably; 
and each helped the other. Mrs. Bickerdyke came 
less frequently into collision with officials when in 
company with Mrs. Porter; and the obstacles in the 
way of the latter were more readily overcome when 
the energy of Mrs. Bickerdyke opposed them. Mrs. 



BATTLE OF SHILOH. 489 

Porter patiently won her way, and urged her claims 
mildly but persistently. Mrs. Bickerdyke was heed- 
less of opposition, which only nerved her to a more 
invincible energy; and she took what she claimed, 
no matter who op]30sed. Both were very dear to the 
soldiers, from each of whom they expected sympathy 
and pity, as well as courage and help. 

After- the wounded of Donelson were cared for, 
Mrs. Bickerdyke left the hospitals, and went back 
into the army. There was great sickness among our 
troops at Savannah, Tenn. She had already achieved 
such a reputation for devotion to the men, for execu- 
tive ability, and versatility of talent, that the spirits 
of the sick and wounded revived at the very sound 
of her voice, and at the sight of her motherly face. 
While busy here, the battle of Shiloh occurred, nine 
miles distant by the river, but only six in a direct 
line. There had been little provision made for the 
terrible needs of the battle-field in advance of the 
conflict. The battle occurred unexpectedly, and was 
a surprise to our men, — who nearly suffered defeat, 
— and again there was utter destitution and incredi- 
ble suffering. Three days after the battle, the boats 
of the Sanitary Commission arrived at the Landing, 
laden with every species of relief, — condensed food, 
stimulants, clothing, bedding, medicines, chloroform, 
surgical instruments, and carefully selected volunteer 
nurses and surgeons. They were on the ground 
some days in advance of the government boats. 

Here Mother Bickei'dyke was found, carrying sys- 
tem, order, and relief wherever she went. One of 
the surgeons went to the rear with a wounded man, 
and found her wrapped in the gray overcoat of a 
rebel officer, for she had disposed of her blanket 



490 god's authority for humane work. 

shawl to some poor fellow who needed it. She was 
wearing a soft slouch hat, having lost her inevitable 
Shaker bonnet. Her kettles had been set up, the fire 
kindled underneath, and she was dispensing hot soup, 
tea, crackers, panado, whiskey and water, and other 
refreshments, to the shivering, fainting, wounded 
men. 

" Where did you get these articles? " he inquired; 
" and under whose authority are you at work? " 

She paid no heed to his interrogatories, and, in- 
deed, did not hear them, so completely absorbed was 
she in her work of compassion. Watching her with 
admiration for her skill, administrative ability, and 
intelligence, — for she not only fed the wounded men, 
but temporarily dressed their wounds in some cases, 
— he approached her again: — 

" Madam, you seem to combine in yourself a sick- 
diet kitchen and a medical staff. May I inquire 
under whose authority you are working? " 

Without pausing in her work, she answered him, 
" I have received my authority from the Lord God 
Almighty; have you anything that ranks higher than 
that?" The truth was, she held no position what- 
ever at that time. She was only a " volunteer nurse," 
having received no appointment, and being attached 
to no corps of relief. 

The Chicago boat took down over one hundred 
boxes of sanitary stores, on which she was allowed 
to draw. But they were only as a dro]3 in the bucket 
among the twelve thousand wounded, lying in ex- 
temporized hospitals in and around Savannah. Other 
consignments of sanitary goods were made to her 
from Chicago and Springfield, 111. The agents of 
the St. Louis and Cincinnati Commissions gave to 



SCORNED ALL DANGER. 491 

her freely, when she made requisition on them. When 
every other resom-ce failed, Mother Bickerdyke would 
take an ambulance, and one of her detailed soldiers 
as driver, and go out foraging. Kever returned she 
empty-handed. The contrabands were her friends 
and allies; and she always came back with eggs, 
milk, butter, and fowls, which were the main objects 
of her quest. These foraging expeditions sometimes 
placed her in great peril; but she scorned any 
thought of danger where the welfare of the boys was 
concerned. 

After she became an agent of the Sanitary Com- 
mission, we endeavored to keep her sup2)lied with 
what she needed. But emergencies were constantly 
arising which she could not foresee, and for which 
the Commission could not provide, which would 
throw her on her own resources; and these never 
failed her. Sometimes, when opportunities for pur- 
chasing hospital supplies came in her way, she would 
buy largely, and send the bills to the Commission 
with her endorsement. Again, at other times of 
great need, she would borrow money, expend it for 
the boys in her charge, and, sending to Mrs. Hoge 
and myself vouchers and notes, would leave the affair 
with us to settle. 

The gentlemen of the Commission, while they had 
no doubt that the good woman made a legitimate 
use of the money and of the articles purchased, ob- 
jected to these irregular and unbusiness-like transac- 
tions; and they were in the right. Again and again 
have we taken these bills, notes, and vouchers into 
our hands, and raised money to pay them outside the 
Commission, among personal friends who knew Mrs. 
Bickerdyke through sons, husbands, and brothers. 



492 SUSTAINED IN HER GOOD WORK. 

They believed she should be sustained in her won- 
derful work, even though she were a little irregular 
in her proceedings. 

The ladies of the city and country were continu- 
ally sending Mrs. Bickerdyke boxes of clothing for 
her own use. In her life of hard work, her clothes 
were soon worn out; and as she never had time to 
bestow on herself, she was greatly in need of such 
kindnesses. Reserving for herself a few articles of 
which she had imperative need, she would take the 
remainder of the garments in her ambulance to the 
Southern women in the neighboi'ing country, and 
peddle them for honey, fruit, milk, eggs, and butter, 
of which she never could have too much. 

Among the articles sent her at one time were two 
very elegant long night-dresses, embroidered, and 
trimmed with ruffles and lace. They were the gift 
of very dear friends; and she had some scruples 
about bartering them away as she did other gar- 
ments. Returning with the " plunder " she had re- 
ceived in exchange for her superfluous clothing, she 
crossed a railroad track, on which stood a train of 
box cars. Stopping the ambulance, she began to 
explore them, according to her usual custom. Inside 
of one were two wounded soldiers going home on 
furlough. Their unhealed wounds were undressed, 
and full of vermin; they were weak for lack of food, 
were depressed and discouraged, and in all respects 
were in a very sorry plight. 

" Humph ! " said Mother Bickerdyke ; " now I see 
what them furbelowed night-gowns were sent down 
here for. The Lord meant I should put 'em to a 
good use, after all." 

The wounds of the poor fellows were washed and 



"my sakes! this is lucky!" 493 

cleansed. Tearing off bandages from the bottom of 
the night-dresses, she properly dressed and bandaged 
them. Socks, and drawers, and handkerchiefs were 
found in the ambulance; but she was entirely desti- 
tute of shirts. A happy thought came to her. 

" Here, boys," she said; "put on the upper half of 
these night-gowns; they're just the thing. My 
sakes ! but this is lucky ! " 

But to this the men decidedly objected. " They 
would wear the dirty, tattered shirts, that had not 
been changed in two months, rather than go home in 
a woman's night-gown ! " 

" Oh, pshaw, boys ! don't be fools ! " persisted 
practical Mother Bickerdyke. " Kight gowns, or 
night sJiiy^ts; what's the odds? These will be softer 
to your wounds; and Heaven knows they're enough 
sight cleaner. Put 'em on, and wear 'em home. If 
anybody says anything, tell them you've jerked 'em 
from the secesh, and the folks will think a heap sight 
more of you for it." 

The men were joersuaded, and got into the nonde- 
script garments. In passing through Chicago, they 
halted for a brief rest at the Soldiers' Home, where, 
when their wounds were dressed, their outre shirts 
were discovered, marked in indelible ink, with Mrs. 
Bickerdyke's name. We oflfered to exchange them 
for genuine hospital shirts; but the men had had 
such sport already, that they clung to the abbreviated 
night-gowns, one of which is to-day preserved in a 
Wisconsin household as a sacred relic. 

As the Savannah hospitals were vacated by the 
transfer of the men farther IS^orth, Mother Bicker- 
dyke, still keeping in the immediate rear of the army, 
was sent to Farmington. Here was one large hos- 

30 



494 BATTLE OF CORINTH. 

pital, of which she was appointed matron. The 
wounded of the battle of luka were brought here, 
and those disabled in various skirmishes. Here for 
the two months of July and August, amid incessant 
alarms from the enemy, Mother Bickerdyke stood at 
her post, personally superintending the cooking, 
washing, and nursing of some thousands of sick and 
wounded men. The hospitals were then removed to 
Corinth, where the elevated ground gave promise of 
a healthier situation, and the defences of the town 
secured perfect safety. 

Hardly were the hospitals in running order again, 
hardly had Mother Bickerdyke again extemporized 
her laundry and diet kitchens, before the battle of 
Corinth was fought. On the second day of the 
fight, to her horror, her hospital came within range 
of the enemy's artillery, and the fearful missiles of 
death fell with fatal precision among her heljiless 
men. There was no alternative but to remove the 
poor fellows again. Worn out with the heat and 
her unparalleled labors, while shot and shell, and 
grape and canister were dealing death around her, 
she bent her energies to this unaccustomed work. 
They were removed to a beautiful grove within the 
range of the hostile guns, where shot and shell 
passed harmlessly over them. After the battle, they 
were carried back to their hospitals. 

This battle greatly increased the labors of Mother 
Bickerdyke. She had learned how to take care of 
men brought in from the battle-field, and was always 
prepared with souj)S, tea, coffee, milk punch, stim- 
ulants, rags, bandages, and whatever else might be 
needed. The rebel wounded fell into her hands, and, 
bitterly as our heroine hated the " secesh," all the 



HER WORK NEVER DONE. 497 

bitterness died out of her heart when the wounded 
in gray uniforms were left to her tender mercies. 
She became a mother to them, as to the boys in bhie. 
Her work was arduous beyond description. Had 
she been contented to perform her work as a matter 
of routine, it would have been easy for her, but this 
would not suffice her great heart and conscientious 
nature. Her work was never done. If anything 
could be suggested to save a man who was dying, 
to soothe, or inspire, encourage, or strengthen a 
patient who was anxious or disheartened, her work 
was not done until this was accomplished. JS^owhere 
in her department was there neglect or suffering, 
misrule or waste. 

Orders had been given to bring the wounded lying 
in tents into her large hospital, as fast as there was 
room for them. At last she was informed that the 
tents were all vacated. With her habit of seeing for 
herself if the work was done, she went from tent to 
tent, examining them. Turning from one, she 
thought she saw a movement under a heap of 
blankets in a corner. She raised the nauseous, fly- 
covered blanket, and there lay a man, still breathing, 
but hardly alive. He had been shot through both 
cheeks, a part of his tongue had been cut off, which 
was swollen to bursting in his mouth, and the left 
shoulder and leg were broken. How long he had 
been forgotten, no one could tell; but the flies had 
rioted in his wounds, and he was in a most lamenta- 
ble condition. 

He was brought on a stretcher immediately to her 
hospital, when she devoted herself to his restoration, 
fighting grim death inch by inch, hour by hour, until 
she came off conqueror, and the man recovered. He 



498 CALLS HER "HIS SAVIOR." 

is living to-day, and is proud to call Mother Bicker- 
dyke his savior. It was something to witness the 
tempest that burst over the heads of the men who 
had been commissioned to remove the wounded, and 
had passed by this poor fellow. Mother Bickerdyke 
was merciless on such an occasion, and flashed such 
lightnings of wrath on the offenders as to astonish 
them into speechlessness. Nothing so aroused her 
as carelessness, or neglect of the helpless, the sick, 
or the wounded. She would work day and night 
herself, to relieve suffering, and she was impatient, 
even to severity, to witness indifference or neglect 
on the part of others. Her only thought was to help 
the poor soldiers; and she did this in a way that 
secured the favor of man, and the approbation of 
Heaven. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

THRILLING INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF MOTHER BICKER- 
DYKE— HER HOSPITAL EXPERIENCES — HER FIRST FUR- 
LOUGH—RETURN TO THE FRONT — FIGHTING THE DOC- 
TORS—A COW-AND-HEN EXPEDITION. 

She is much worn down — Extremely Perilous to remain longer without Rest 
— Her Health demands a Respite from her Labors for a Time — Comes 
to my House on her Furlough — Attends a Wedding — "Have enjoyed 
your Wedding as if it were a Prayer-Meeting!" — Calls Meetings to 
raise Supplies — Returns to the Front, organizes and regenerates Hospi- 
tals — Re-organizes her Laundries in Memphis — Quarrels with the Medi- 
cal Director — Outgenerals him — " One of us two goes to the Wall, and 
Haint never me! " — The Storm finally ends in Sunshine — They become 
Friends — He sends her North on a Cow-and-Hen Expedition — Returns 
with a hundred Cows, and a thousand Hens — Improved Condition of 
the Hospitals — Confided in everywhere — Impatient of Red Tape — 
Cared little for Sect, but much for the Comfort of the Soldiers. 



"SF^ 




^X Xovember, 1862, Mrs. Bickerdyke was 
^|5J compelled, for the first time, to take a fur- 
lough. She was thoroughly worn out, 
although she would not admit it, and was as 
indomitable in will, and as Herculean in 
energy, as at the first. But the medical di- 
rector and the surgeons under whose immediate 
direction she was then working, and who were noble 
men and her personal friends, saw that she had 
reached a point of nervous exhaustion when it was 
extremely perilous for her to remain longer at her 
post. They compelled her to take a furlough. She 
came direct to Chicago, and, as I had requested, to 



499 



500 "very mantt all shot to pieces." 

my house. I was not at home when she arrived, but 
returned that evening. " Norwegian Martha," who 
had presided in my kitchen for years, and who had 
never before seen Mother Bickerdyke, informed me 
of the new arrival in characteristic style. 

" Another one more of them nurse woman have 
come with some carpet-bag," Martha said. (The 
nurses sent by the Commission into the service had 
made my house a sort of headquarters as they passed 
through the city, a proceeding greatly disapproved 
by Martha.) " This one have no afraid to do any- 
thing, and have make herself to take a bath, and have 
put herself to bed till supper time. She say she have 
very many hundred miles rode, aud very many all- 
shot-up " — shot to pieces — " soldiers to take care 
of, and she be got awful tired, and, poor woman, she 
look seek (sick) . But she have make me to think of 
my poor mother, what make herself to die in I^orway 
with so much work too hard, before to this country I 
come. I like this nurse woman what have come more 
than the rest that stayed away." The influence of 
Mother Bickerdyke's great maternal heart was felt 
everywhere. 

After tea, I accompanied my family to the wedding 
of a friend, which was solemnized in a church near 
by. Wearied as Mother Bickerdyke was, she insisted 
on making one of the company. She believed it would 
rest her to see the inside of a meeting-house; it was 
a sight that had not blessed her eyes for eighteen 
months, she said. It was an intensely tedious cere- 
mony; for the old clergyman who officiated at the 
marriage added to a very long prayer, a Scripture 
reading and a full half-hour's exhortation to good 
living, with directions for accomplishing it, which he 



"enjoyed your wedding very much." 501 

counted off, firstly, secondly, thirdly, and so on. It 
was a sermon, in fact. After the marriage, the newly 
wedded halted for a few moments in the church 
parlor, to take leave of their friends, as they were to 
proceed directly to the train, en route for the distant 
city of their future residence. Mother Bickerdyke 
was introduced, at her request; for she had learned 
that the young husband held the rank of major in 
one of the Illinois regiments. 

"My dear," said our motherly heroine in a naive 
way to the bride, " I have enjoyed your wedding very 
much; it has done me as much good as a prayer- 
meeting. I am very much refreshed by it." (She 
had slept through the interminable service.) " I am 
sure you will make your husband a good wife, for 
you have got the face of a good girl ; and I hope you 
and he will live together a good many years. If he 
gets wounded in battle, and falls into my hands, I 
will try to take good care of him for you." 

" Why, Mother Bickerdyke ! God bless you ! I 
am glad to see you! " burst out the bridegroom, with 
a mighty welcome. " You have already taken care 
of me. After the battle of Donelson I was brought 
up on one of the boats filled with wounded men, and 
you took care of me, as you did of the rest, like a 
mother. Don't you remember a lieutenant who had 
a minie-ball in his leg; and the doctors wanted to 
amputate the leg, and he fought against their doing 
it, and how you helped him keep it? I am the man. 
Here's the old leg, good as new. I have been pro- 
moted since." But she could not recall his case 
among the thousands more seriously wounded whom 
she had since carefully nursed. 

This one wedding, attended on the first evening of 



502 INCREASE OF SUPPLIES SECURED. 

her arrival, was the only recreation of her furlough. 
The very next morning she set herself to v^ork to 
stimulate the increase of supplies, which were called 
for now in greater quantities than ever. A meeting 
of the ladies of the city was called in Bryan Hall, 
and to them the earnest woman made so eloquent an 
appeal, backed by such thrilling statements, that they 
consecrated themselves anew to the work of relieving 
our brave men. She pursued the same course at 
Milwaukee, SiDringfield, Galesburg, Aurora, and 
many other cities. With many of the leading men 
of these cities she held interviews, when her devotion, 
common sense, pathos, pluck, and energy, so secured 
their confidence, and aroused their sympathy, that 
they made large donations to the Sanitary Commis- 
sion, to be repeated quarterly while the war con- 
tinued. 

Kested and recuperated, and having placed her two 
sons at boarding-school where she could feel easy 
about them, she reported to the medical director at 
Memphis, as she had been ordered, in January, 
1863. Immense hospitals were being organized in 
that city, which was also being made a base of mili- 
tary and medical supplies. She was first set to 
organizing the Adams Block Hospital, and, that com- 
pleted, she was sent to Fort Pickering to re-organize 
the "Small-pox Hospital." There had been great 
neglect here; and the loathsome place had been left 
uncared for until it was fouler and more noisome 
than an Augean stable. But Mother Bickerdyke 
was just the Hurcules to cleanse it. She raised such 
a hurricane about the ears of the officials whose neg- 
lect had caused its terrible condition, as took the 
heads from some of them, and sent back to their 



IMPROVED CONDITION OF HOSPITALS. 503 

regiments several private soldiers who had been de- 
tailed as nurses. 

The storm she raised left the atmosphere and 
premises sweeter than she found them. The walls 
were whitewashed, the kitchens regenerated, so that 
the patients could have the diet necessary to them, 
and both they and their beds were supplied with fresh 
clothing. Disinfectants were used with a lavish hand, 
and then, leaving a matron in charge who was an 
abridged edition of herself, she went to the Gayoso 
Hospital, to organize and take charge of that. 

In the meantime she organized anew her huge 
laundries, in which was performed all the washing 
of the Memphis hospitals, even when there were 
eight and ten thousand patients in them. Washing- 
machines, wringers, caldrons, mangles, and any other 
needed laundry machinery, were sent her by the 
Sanitary Commission. Her old apparatus had been 
destroyed at Holly Springs, Miss., when that point 
was captured by the enemy, through the incom- 
petence of Colonel Murphy, of the Eighth Wisconsin. 
About one million dollars' worth of ordnance, sub- 
sistence, and quartermasters' stores belonging to 
Grant's army was destroyed at Holly Springs at the 
time of its capture; and so also was a splendidly 
furnished depot of sanitary stores. 

It was some time before the medical authorities 
at Memphis were able to understand Mother Bicker- 
dyke. There was perfect harmony between the 
military authorities and herself; and she readily ob- 
tained from them any co-operation she desired. As 
hei- work mcreased, she asked for details of more and 
more contrabands, and rations for them, until, when I 
went down to Memphis, in the spring of 1863, there 



504 CONFIDED i:n^ everywhere. 

were from fifty to seventy men and women in her 
emjDloy. General Grant had given her a pass any- 
where within the lines of his department, into all 
camps and hospitals, past all pickets, with anthority 
to draw on any quartermaster in his department for 
army wagons to transport sanitary or hospital stores. 
This pass, enlarged as his department extended, she 
held until the end of the war. 

The Sanitary Commission authorized her to draw 
on its depot of stores at Memphis, Cairo, or Chicago, 
for anything needed for the boys. She was never 
refused by the Indianapolis, Cincinnati, or St. Louis 
Commissions. Indeed, the St. Louis Commission 
supplied her as if she were its own accredited agent; 
and Mr. Yeatmen, its president, was ever one of her 
best friends and wisest counsellors. All this power, 
and authority, and opulence of relief, enlarged her 
sphere of action, and made her a very important per- 
sonage in Memphis. She never, in a single instance, 
abused the trust reposed in her, but, with rigorous 
and terrible conscientiousness, devoted all she had 
and was to the cure and comfort of the soldiers in 
hospital, without favoritism or partiality. 

With the medical authorities she was for a time 
at variance. The medical director at Memphis was 
a young man belonging to the ]*egular army — able, 
industrious, skilful, and punctilious. He wished 
Mrs. Bickerdyke to revolve in an orbit he marked 
out for her — to recognize him as the head, and 
never to go beyond him, or outside him, for assist- 
ance or authority. Moreover, he was a Catholic, and 
naturally gave the preference to the excellent " Sis- 
ters of Mercy " as nurses ; nor was he backward in 
publicly expressing his preference. He disapproved 



IMPATIENT OF RED TAPE. 505 

of Mrs. Bickerdyke's laundry; chiefly, it seemed, be- 
cause he had not organized it. He did not approve 
of her contraband help, nor of her possessing so 
much power; nor, if the truth must be told, of Mother 
Bickerdyke herself. He could not see any excel- 
lence in a woman who worked with her own hands, 
who held no social position, who was as indifferent 
to the Queen's English as to his red tape, who cared 
little for the Catholic, but very much for the Congre- 
gationalist Church, and who did what she wished, 
when and as she wished, without consulting him, the 
medical director. 

Mrs. Bickerdyke cared little for what he said or 
thought, if he did not meddle with her; for she was 
no more in love with the medical director than he 
was with her. He inspected her hospital regularly, 
and never found fault with it; for its perfect man- 
agement defied cj'iticism. Once, in passing through 
a ward, he espied some half-dozen eggs under a sick 
man's pillow. The man was recovering from a fever, 
and had a great craving for food, that could not be 
allowed him in his weak condition. Especially, he 
coveted boiled eggs; and, as the poor fellow was 
very babyish, Mrs. Bickerdyke had petted him in 
her motherly way, and tucked half a dozen hard- 
boiled eggs under his pillow, telling him he should 
have them to eat when he was well enough. The 
sick man found a vast deal of comfort in fondling the 
eggs with his hands. I have seen men in hospitals 
handling half a dozen potatoes under their pillows 
in the same way. The medical director espied the 
eggs, and ordered them to the kitchen, declaring " he 
would have no hens' nests under the pillows." The 
man was just weak enough to cry miserably over his 



506 "keep the eggs till they hatch." 

loss ; and the nurse in charge hastened to report the 
story to Mother Bickerdyke. 

If any unnecessar}^ offence came to her boys, woe 
to hhn through whom it came. She would have 
" shown fight " to Secretary Stanton himself, if he 
had been the offender. Catching up a large pail 
filled with eggs, she strode into the w\ard, her blue 

eyes blazing, her cheeks glowing : " Dr. , will 

you tell me what harm it does to humor a sick man 
in an innocent fancy? Let this boy have the eggs 
where he can see them. There, John, there's a whole 
pailful of eggs," pushing them under his bed; "and 
you may keep them there until they hatch, if you've 
a mind to." And she strode out again. The doctor 
chose not to hear, and the boy's eggs were not med- 
dled with again. 

A few days after, on her return from her regular 
visit to the Small-pox Hospital, she found that the 
blow which had been impending had fallen. The 
medical director had left a written order that all the 
contrabands detailed to her service should be sent to 
the contraband camp by nine o'clock the next morn- 
ing, the hour for hospital inspection. It was night 
when she returned and received the order, and it was 
raining hard. Going to the door, she recalled the 
departing ambulance. 

"Here, Andy," she said to the driver, "you and I 
must have some supper, these mules must be fed, and 
then we must go to General Hurlburt's headquarters. 
I'll see if these darkies are going to be sent to the 

contraband camp. If Dr. is going to be ugly, 

he'll find two can play at that game, and a woman is 
better at it than a man." The negroes stood around 
with comically doleful faces, like so many statues in 



"I'll go, sate or not sape." 507 

ebony. They liked Mother Bickerdyke and the hos- 
pital, and they hated the camp with its forlornness. 

"AYhen's we gwine from dis yer hospittle?" they 
inquired. 

"When I tell you to, and not before!" was her 
laconic answer. " Get yourself ready, Mary Liver- 
more, to go with me! " 

I protested against her taking this drive; for the 
streets had been torn up by the enemy before the city 
was surrendered, there was no gas, and no street 
lights, we had not the countersign, the rain poured in 
torrents, and the project was fraught with danger. 
She silenced me, " Oh, we'll leave you behind, if 
you're such a coward ; but Andy and I'll go, safe or 
not safe ! " Knowing that I had more prudence than 
she, I finally accompanied them. 

Through the pouring rain, over broken and exca- 
vated streets, not a glimmer of light anywhere, save 
from the one lantern of the ambulance, halted at 
every few paces by the challenge of the closely set 
guards, — for Memphis, though conquered, was still 
a rebellious city, — Mother Bickerdyke and I toiled 
on to the headquarters of the Post Commander. By 
and by, we met the ofiicer of the night, making the 
grand rounds, and he gave us the countersign. Then 
we proceeded a little more comfortably. 

It was hard work to get access to the Commander, 
for he was in bed. But at last her importunity pre- 
vailed, and she was conducted to his presence. She 
told her story honestly, and with straightforwardness, 
and asked for written authority to keep her detailed 
contrabands until he, Greneral Hurlburt, should re- 
voke the order. It was granted; and back through 
the rain we rode. Mother Bickerdyke triumphant. 



508 "but I shan't go, doctor." 

The next morning, at nine, the medical director 
made his appearance at the Gayoso Hospital, accord- 
ing to appointment. The negroes Avere all at their 
work in the kitchen, in the laundry, in the wards, 
everywhere, as if no order had been given for their 
dismissal. He came to the kitchen, where Mother 
Bickerdyke was making soup. 

" Mrs. Bickerdyke, did you receive an order I left 
for you Saturday morning?" 

" I did, sir ! " continuing to season and taste her 
soup. 

" An order for the dismissal of these black people 
to their camp?" 

"Exactly, sir." 

" I expected it to be obeyed ! " in a positive tone of 
voice. 

"I suppose so, sir!" very nonchalant in manner. 

" And why has it not been? " in a louder tone, and 
with rising anger, menace in his eyes, and a flush of 
wrath on his cheek. 

" Because, sir," turning and facing him, " General 
Hurlburt has given me an order to keep 'em here 
until he dismisses them; and, as General Hurlburt 
happens to outrank you, he must be obeyed before 
you." And putting her hand in her pocket, she pro- 
duced General Hurlburt's order. 

There was a storm. The doctor was vulgarly 
angry, and raved in a manner that was very damag- 
ing to his dignity. He threatened all sorts of dread- 
ful things, and wound up by telling Mother Bicker- 
dyke that " he would not have her in Memphis " — 
that " he would send her home before she was a week 
older." 

"Butlsha'n't go, doctor!" she answered. "I've 



"don't play seconb fiddle to you." 509 

come down here to stay, and I mean to stay until this 
thing is played out. I've enlisted for the war, as the 
boys have, and they want me and need me, and can't 
get on without me; and so I shall stay, doctor, and 
you'll have to make up your mind to get along with 
me the best way you can. It's of no use for you to 
try to tie me ujJ with your red tape. There's too 
much to be done down here to stop for that, ^ov is 
there any sense in your getting mad because I don't 
play second fiddle to you; for 1 tell you I haven't 
got time for it. And, doctor, I guess you hadn't 
better get into a row with me, for whenever anybody 
does one of us two always goes to the wall, and 
Haifi^t 7iever me ! " 

The doctor had a keen sense of the ridiculous, and 
Mother Bickerdyke's novel method of pacification 
amused him when he got over his short-lived anger. 
He was really a very superior officer; but like many 
another clever man he was dominated by the inborn 
belief that all women were to play " second fiddle " 
to him. He had the good sense to appreciate blunt 
Mother Bickerdyke's excellences, and when mutual 
friends entered on the work of pacification they were 
successful. 

Turning to her one day, in a threatening way, but 
half jocularly, he said, "Take care, madam; your 
turn to go to the wall may come yet ! " " May be 
so ! " was her brief answer ; and then she went on 
with her work. From being at disagreement, they 
finally came to a perfect understanding, and by and 
by became the best of friends. 

A week after, I was in her hospital about noon, 
when the wardmaster of the fourth story came to 
the kitchen, to tell her that the surgeon of that ward 



510 " YOU dru:n^ken, heartless scalawag." 

had not made his appearance, the special diet list for 
the ward had not yet been made out, and the men 
were suffering for their breakfasts. 

" Haven't had their breakfasts ! Why did'nt you 
tell me of this sooner? Here, stop! The poor fel- 
lows must be fed immediately." And filling enor- 
mous tin pails and trays with coff'ee, soup, gruel, 
toast, and other like food, she sent half a dozen men 
ahead with them. Extending to me a six-gallon pail 
of hot soup, she bade me follow her, being freighted 
herself with a pail of similar size in each hand. I 
stood looking on at the distribution, when her clarion 
voice rang out to me in tones of authority; "Come, 
make yourself alive, Mary Livermore! Try to be 
useful! Help these men!" I never knew anyone 
who deliberately disregarded her orders — I had no 
thought but to obey — and so I sat down to feed a 
man who was too weak to help himself. 

While we were all busy, the surgeon of the ward 
came in, looking as if he had just risen from sleeping 
off a night's debauch. Instantly there was a change 
in the tones of Mother Bickerdyke's voice, and in the 
expression of her face. She was no longer a tender, 
pitying, sympathizing mother, but Alecto herself. 

" You miserable, drunken, heartless scalawag ! " 
shaking her finger and head at him threateningly,. 
"What do you mean by leaving these fainting, suffer- 
ing men to go until noon with nothing to eat, and na 
attention? ]^ot a word, sir!" as he undertook to 
make an explanation. "Off with your shoulder- 
straps, and get out of this hospital! I'll have them 
off in three days, sir ! This is your fourth spree in a 
month, and you shall go where you belong. Off 
with your shoulder-straps, I tell you, for they've got 



THE UNWORTHY SURGEON DISMISSED. 511 

to go." She was as good as her threat, for in less 
than a week she had made such charges against him 
that he was dismissed the service, and that by the 
very medical director with whom she had had weeks' 
wrangUng. The dismissed sm-geon went to General 
Sherman to complain of the injustice done him. "He 
had been grossly belied, and foul charges had been 
made against him, which he could j)rove false," 
was his declaration. "Who was your accuser?" 
asked General Sherman; "who made the charges?" 
" Why — why — I suppose," said the surgeon reluc- 
tantly, " it was that spiteful old woman, Mrs. Bick- 
erdyke." " Oh, well, then," said Sherman, " if it was 
she, I can't help you. She has more power than I — 
she ranks me." 

It was more difficult to supply the hospitals with 
milk and eggs than with any other necessaries. 
With the supplies furnished by government, the tea, 
coffee, sugar, flour, meat, and other like articles, 
which were usually of good quality. Mother Bicker- 
dyke could work miracles in the culinary line, even 
when there was a lack of sanitary stores, if she could 
only have an abundant supply of milk and eggs. 
But these were very difficult to obtain. They could 
not be sent from the North, and they could not be 
purchased in sufficiently large quantities to supply 
the enormous demand. In the enemy's country, 
where the hospitals were located, their prices were 
exorbitant beyond belief. Mother Bickerdyke hit 
upon a plan to remedy these difficulties. When the 
medical director came into her hospital one morning, 
on a tour of inspection, she accosted him thus : — 

" Dr. , do you know we are paying these 

Memphis secesh fifty cents for every quart of milk 

31 



512 "milk and egg producers." 

we use? And do you know it's such poor stuff, — 
two thirds chalk and water, — that if you should 
pour it into the trough of a respectable pig at home, 
he would turn up his nose, and run off, squealing in 
disgust? " 

"Well, what can we do about it?" asked the doc- 
tor, between whom and herself there was now an 
excellent understanding. 

" If you'll give me thirty days' furlough and trans- 
portation, I'll go home, and get all the milk and eggs 
that the Memphis hospitals can use." 

" Get milk and eggs ! Why, you could not bring 
them down here, if the ]!^orth would give you all it 
has. A barrel of eggs would spoil, this warm weather, 
before it could reach us ; and how on earth could you 
bring milk? " 

" But I'll bring down the milk and egg producers. 
I'll get cows and hens, and we'll have milk and eggs 
of our own. The folks at home, doctor, will give us 
all the hens and cows we need for the use of these 
hospitals, and jump at the chance to do it. You 
needn't laugh, nor shake your head! " as he turned 
away, amused and incredulous. " I tell you, the 
people at the ^N^orth ache to do something for the 
boys down here, and I can get fifty cows in Illinois 
alone for just the asking." 

" Pshaw ! pshaw ! " said the doctor, " you would be 
laughed at from one end of the country to the other, 
if you should go on so wild an errand." 

"Fiddlesticks! Who cares for that? Give me a 
furlough and transportation, and let me try it ! " 

So she came ]!!^orth again, and did not stop until 
she reached St. Louis. She was escorted as far as 
that city by several hundred cripples, " every one of 



"these are loyal cows and hens." 513 

whom had lost either a leg or an arm." These she 
saw placed in hospitals, and then came on to Chicago. 
She secured the cows with little difficulty. Jacob 
Strawn, of Jacksonville, one of the wealthy farmers 
of Illinois, with a few of his neighbors, gave the 
hundred cows without delay. They were sent to 
Springfield, 111., — whence Governor Yates had prom- 
ised they should be shipped to Memphis, — in herds 
of fifteen or twenty, with some one in charge of each 
detachment, to take care of the animals. 

The hens were sent to the rooms of the Commis- 
sion in Chicago. In a week after the call, our build- 
ing was transformed into a huge hennery, and all the 
workers therein were completely driven out. The 
din of crowing, cackling, and quarrelling was un- 
bearable; and, as the weather was warm, the odor 
was yet more insupportable. The fowls were de- 
spatched to Memphis in four shipments, in coops 
containing about two dozen each. 

Before her thirty days' leave of absence was ended, 
Mother Bickerdyke was on the return route to her 
hospital, forming a part of a bizarre procession of 
over one hundred cows and one thousand hens, strung 
all along the road from Chicago to Memphis. She 
entered the city in triumph, amid immense lowing 
and crowing and cackling. She informed the aston- 
ished Memphians that, " These are loyal cows and 
hens; none of your miserable trash that give chalk 
and water for milk, and lay loud-smelling eggs." 

General Hurlburt, who was then at the head of the 
department, hearing of this novel immigration within 
his lines, gave up to the noisy new-comers Presi- 
dent's Island, lying in the Mississippi opposite Mem- 
phis, a stretch of land so elevated that it is above the 



514 GOOD CHEER OE HER VISIT. 

highest stage of water. Contrabands were detailed 
to take charge of them; and as long as Mrs. Bicker- 
dyke remained in Memphis there was an abundance 
of milk and eggs for the use of the hospitals. 

Mrs. Bickerdyke remained at Memphis till after the 
fall of Yicksburg. During the siege of that defiant 
stronghold, she went again and again to the hospi- 
tals, — a little beyond the reach of the guns, — taking 
lemons, ice, condensed milk, and portable lemonade. 
She always left the heroic sufferers more cheerful 
and comfortable, in their stifling little coops of tem- 
porary hospitals, for the good cheer of her visit. After 
the fall of Yicksburg, she remained at that point, and 
at Jackson, Miss., until the hospitals were nearly 
emptied of their severely wounded or sick men. 'No 
one ever worked more heroically, unselfishly and 
untiringly, than did this large-hearted woman for the 
welfare of sick and suffering soldiers. 



CHAPTER XXYI. 

MOTHER BICKERDYKE AND GENERAL SHERMAN — A NIGHT 
OF HORROR — HEROIC EFFORTS TO SAVE THE WOUNDED 
FROM FREEZING — HEART-RENDING SCENES AND TERRI- 
BLE SUFFERING. 

Mother Bickerdyke's Idolatry of General Sherman — She becomes an At- 
tachee of his Corps — Comes to Chicago and does good Work for Sol- 
diers' Families — Goes to Chattanooga after the Battle, and establishes a 
Hospital — Incredible Exertion to save her Patients from Freezing — 
Orders Breastworks torn down for Fuel — "All right, Major, I'm ar- 
rested! Only don't meddle with me till the Weather moderates ! " — Gen- 
eral Buniside beleaguered in Knoxville, Tenn. — Sherman marches to 
his Relief — Fearful Suffering from Cold and short Rations — Horrors of 
the Return Route to Chattanooga — Railroad from Nashville completed 
at last — Joyful Welcome of the first Train — All Night in the icy Gale 
— She ran from Tent to Tent — She encouraged the shivering Soldiers — 
Her Name mentioned only with Tears. 

'EISTERAL SHERMAIsr was the heau ideal 
of Mother Bickerdyke. He was her great 
man and great soldier. She would always 
defend General Grant like a tigress if he 
were assailed; but it was clear to €very one 
that General Sherman was the special object 
of her idolatry. And to-day I think she would find 
it easy to give her life for Sherman, if the sacrifice 
were necessary. She would count it a small thing to 
die for him. She rates him higher than Grant, 
higher than Lincoln, and altogether superior as a 
soldier to Washington or Wellington; and woe to 
the luckless wight who would dare lower her ideal ! 

515 




516 AliT ENVIABLE NOTORIETY. 

General Sherman on his side fully appreciated 
Mother Bickerdyke; and when he was curt and 
repellant to all agents, nurses, and employes of the 
Sanitary, Christian, and State Commissions, she had 
the entree to his headquarters, and obtained any 
favor she chose to ask. There was something in her 
character akin to his own. Both were restless, 
impetuous, fiery, hard working, and indomitable. 
After the fall of Yicksburg, Mother Bickerdyke 
became a special attachee of his corps, the Fifteenth. 
Ever after, during the war, she considered herself in 
a special sense under Sherman's direction; and the 
soldiers of the Fifteenth Corps have always claimed 
exclusive ownership of her. 

When Sherman went to re-enforce Grant at Chat- 
tanooga, she came North, by Sherman's direction, 
and hastened to the same destination by way of 
Louisville; but, as Sherman's army was to march 
from the Big Black, across the enemy's countiy, to 
Chattanooga, and she was to go round by railroad 
and steamboat, she had a few days to sj^are, and 
came again to Chicago for a brief visit. Her ex- 
ploits in supplying Memphis with milk and eggs, as 
well as the grand accounts of her famous nursing, 
brought home by fui'loughed soldiers who were scat- 
tered through every town in the I^orthwest, had 
given her an enviable notoriety. Everybody wanted 
to see the good woman, and to aid her personally, or 
assist in her work. Her arrival in Chicago was 
announced in the papers, when she was overwhelmed 
with attentions, which she put aside with the utmost 
indifference. Invitations to visit towns, cities, and 
societies, poured in ujdou her like a flood. Recep- 
tions were tendered her, ladies offered to make par- 



NO TIME NOW TO FROLIC. 517 

ties for her, and the invitations to lunch came by 
dozens. But she declined all, with the stereotyped 
rebuke " that the country had a big war on its hands, 
and that this was no time for visiting or frolicking." 
She made several visits to the families of soldiers 
whom she had left in hospital, resident in the vicinity 
of Chicago, always carrying aid and comfort with 
her. 

She found one of these families in great distress 
and poverty. The husband and father had been in 
positions for ten months that removed him beyond 
reach of the paymaster ; and his family were in great 
need of the money which he failed to receive. They 
wei-e owing six months' house rent; and the land- 
lord, a hard man, had served a writ of ejectment 
upon them, and was preparing to put them summa- 
rily into the street. Mother Bickerdyke paid him a 
visit at his oflSce, and sought to turn him from his 
purpose with all the peculiar eloquence of which she 
was mistress. He could not be moved, but scorned 
her and ordered her from his premises. She rose to 
go, and, taking a Bible from the shelf, which was 
never used except to give legality to oaths, she 
opened to the sixteenth chapter of Luke, and, strain- 
ing to her full height, with a solemn and almost ter- 
rible face, she read these words before an audience 
of a dozen or more men, — 

" 'And it came to pass that the beggar died, and 
was carried by angels into Abraham's bosom. The 
rich man also died and was buried, and in hell — 
in HELL — in HELL,' " — increasing the emphasis 
each time — " ' he lifted up his eyes, being in tor- 
ments, and saw Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in 
his bosom.' You see what you are coming to, 



518 HER WORK AT CHATTANOOGA. 

sir," she added, " and the time may not be far off. 
May God have mercy on your mean soul! Good- 
bye." Then the resohite woman sought another 
house for the soldier's family, and rested not in her 
humane work until she had raised the money to pay 
the rent six months in advance. 

Her visits always stirred us up at the ]^orth. 
Whenever she needed an extra quantity of sanitary 
stores, she would wi'ite us word to " stir up the aid 
societies as with a big spoon." And this work was 
effectually accomplished by one of her visits. Her 
detailed account of the work done in ministering to 
our sick and wounded men, the methods employed, 
together with a recital of events in which she had 
participated, would quicken our flagging spirits, and 
incite us all to new labor and sacrifice. 

Hardly was the battle of Chattanooga fought, 
when Mother Bickerdyke was established at the 
base of Mission Ridge, in a field hospital. Here she 
was the only woman at work for nearly six weeks. 
In the very midst of the din and smoke of the car- 
nage, she began to receive the wounded and ex- 
hausted, until very nearly two thousand of the worst 
cases were assigned to her nursing. ]^ever did she 
render more valuable service. The Sanitary Com- 
mission had pushed through from Louisville, with 
immense trains of wagons, heavily loaded with sup- 
plies, and had bountifully provided Mother Bicker- 
dyke with the stores most needed after the battle. 
The railroad running from ]N^ashville, badly built, 
with poor material, and for light travel, had been 
used up long before. But as Chattanooga was to be 
the base of the army for some time, another road 
was necessary for heavy army use, and this was now 



NUKSED TWO THOUSAND PATIENTS. 519 

in process of construction. Everything, therefore, 
needed for the army, — rations and clothing for the 
men, provender for the horses and mules, hospital 
supplies for the wounded and sick, — was hauled 
through in army wagons, while this work was being 
done. 

'No pen can depict, and no tongue narrate the suf- 
ferings, hardships, and privations of oar brave men 
in southern and eastern Tennessee, during the months 
of November, December, and January, of 1863 and 
1864. Hunger and cold, famine and nakedness were 
their inseparable companions. Horses and mules 
starved also, ten thousand animals starving at Chat- 
tanooga. The reproachful whinnying complaints of 
the famishing beasts wrung the hearts of the sol- 
diers, even when they were slowly dying themselves 
from lack of food. 

Mother Bickerdyke's field hospital was on the 
edge of a forest, five miles from Chattanooga. The 
weather was as arctic as in New England in the 
same season. Men were detailed to fell the trees 
and pile log heaps, which were kept continually 
burning, to warm the camps and hospitals. These 
log fires were her only means of cooking; nor could 
any other be hoped for until the railroad was com- 
pleted. By these log fires Mother Bickerdyke, with 
her aids, contrabands, or convalescent soldiers, did 
all the cooking for her two thousand patients. Here 
she made tea and cofiee, soup and toast. Here she 
broiled beef and mutton without a gridiron. Here 
she baked bread by a process of her own invention, 
blistering her fingers while doing it, and burning her 
clothing. A dress which she wore at this time came 
into my hands, and was kept at the rooms of the 



520 SUCCESS AT FORAGING. 

Commission for some time as a curiosity. It was 
burned so full of holes that it would hardly hang 
together when held up. It looked as if grape and 
canister had played hide-and-seek through it. 

" The boys were all the time putting me out," she 
said, meaning her dress ; " and a dozen of 'em were 
grabbing me whenever I was cooking by the log 
fires; for the fire Avould snap, and my clothes would 
catch, but I couldn't tell where." After a time men 
were detailed to tear down some of the store-houses, 
with the lumber of which they put bunks into other 
similar buildings, and these served as hospitals. 
With bricks from the demolished chimneys the men 
constructed ovens of her design, more convenient for 
the baking of bread. In one of her foraging expedi- 
tions she came across huge potash kettles, and an 
abandoned mill, where was plenty of flour, cattle, and 
sheep, which had belonged to General Bragg's dis- 
comfited army. All these were laid under contribu- 
tion for the camp and the hospital. 

The last day of the year 1863 was one of memo- 
rable coldness, as were the first few days of the year 
1864. The rigor of the weather in Chicago at that 
time actually suspended all outdoor business, and 
laid an embargo on travel in the streets. It was 
even severer weather in Mother Bickerdyke's loca- 
tion; for the icy winds swept down Lookout Moun- 
tain, where they were re-enforced by currents of air 
that tore through the valleys of Mission Kidge, cre- 
ating a furious arctic hurricane that overturned the 
hospital tents in which the most badly wounded men 
were located. It hurled the partially recovered 
patients out into the pouring rain, that became glare- 
ice as it touched the earth, breaking anew their heal- 



BELIEF TO SUFEERIJSTG SOLDIERS. 521 

ing bones, and chilling their attenuated frames with 
the piercing mountain gale. 

The rain fell in torrents in the mountains, and 
poured down their sides so furiously and suddenly 
that it made a great flood in the valleys at their base. 
Before the intense cold could stiffen the headlong 
current into ice, it swept out into the swollen creeks 
several of the feeblest of the men under single hospi- 
tal tents; and they were drowned. JSTight set in 
intensely cold, for which the badly fitted up hospitals 
were wholly unprepared. 

All that night Mother Bickerdyke worked like a 
Titan to save her bloodless, feeble patients from 
being frozen to death. There were several hundred 
in hospital tents — all wounded men — all bad cases. 
The fires were piled higher and higher with logs, 
new fires were kindled which came nearly to the 
tents, until they were surrounded by a cordon of 
immense pyres, that roared and crackled in the 
stinging atmosphere. But before midnight the fuel 
gave out. To send men out into the forests to cut 
more, in the darkness and awful coldness, seemed 
barbarous. The surgeon in charge dared not order 
them out, and it is doubtful if the order could have 
been obeyed had it been given. " We must try and 
pull through until morning," he said, " for nothing 
can be done to-night." And he retired to his own 
quarters, in a helpless mood of mind. 

Mother Bickerdyke was equal to the emergency. 
With her usual disdain of red tape, she appealed to 
the Pioneer Corps to take their mules, axes, hooks, 
and chains, and tear down the breastworks near them, 
made of logs with earth thrown up against them. 
They were of no value, having served their purpose 



522 ALL l^IGHT JN THE ICY GALE. 

during the campaign. Nevertheless, an order for 
their demolition was necessary if they were to be de- 
stroyed. There was no officer of sufficiently high 
rank present to dare give this order; but, after she 
had refreshed the shivering men with a cup or two 
of panado, composed of hot water, sugar, crackers, 
and whiskey, they went to work at her suggestion, 
without orders from officers. They knew, as did she, 
that on the continuance of the huge fires through 
the night, depended the lives of hundreds of their 
wounded comrades; for there was no bedding for 
the tents, only a blanket or two for each wounded 
suffering man. 

The men of the corps set to work tearing down 
the breastworks, and hauling the logs to the fierce 
fires, while Mother Bickerdyke ordered half a dozen 
barrels of meal to be broken open, and mixed with 
warm water, for their mules. Immense caldrons of 
hot drinks were renewedly made under her direction 
— hot cofiee, panado, and other nourishing potables ; 
and layers of hot bi'icks were put around every 
wounded and sick man of the entire fifteen hundred 
as he lay in his cot. From tent to tent she ran all 
the night in the icy gale, hot bricks in one hand, and 
hot drinks in the other, cheering, warming, and en- 
couraging the poor shivering fellows. 

Suddenly there was a great cry of horror; and, 
looking in the direction whence it proceeded, she 
saw thirteen ambulances filled with Avounded men, 
who had been started for her hospital from Ringgold, 
in the morning, by order of the authorities. It had 
become necessary to break up the small outlying 
post hospitals, and concentrate at Chattanooga. 
These had been delayed by the rain and the gale, 



NECESSITY OF CUTTING RED TAPE. 523 

and for hours had been travelling in the darkness 
and unparalleled coldness, both mules and drivers 
being nearly exhausted and frozen. On opening the 
ambulances, what a spectacle met Mother Bicker- 
dyke's eyes! They were filled with wounded men 
nearly chilled to death. The hands of one were frozen 
like marble. The feet of another, the face of another, 
the bowels of a fourth, who afterwards died. Every 
bandage had stiffened into ice. The kegs of water 
had become solid crystal ; and the men, who were past 
complaining, almost past suffering, were dropping 
into the sleep that ends in death. The surgeons of 
the hospital were all at work through the night with 
Mrs. Bickerdyke, and came promptly to the relief of 
these poor men, hardly one of whom escaped ampu- 
tation of frozen limbs from that night's fearful ride. 

As the night was breaking into the cold gray day, 
the officer in command of the post was informed of 
Mother Bickerdyke's unauthorized exploits. He 
hastened down where the demolished breastworks 
were being ra23idly devoured by the fierce flames. 
He took in the situation immediately, and evidently 
saw the necessity and wisdom of the course she had 
pursued. But it was his business to preserve order 
and maintain discipline; and so he made a show of 
arresting the irregular proceeding. By no mere 
order of his could this be done. Not until day- 
dawn, when they could go safely into the woods to 
cut fuel, were the men disposed to abate their raid 
on the breastworks, which had served their purpose 
of defence against the enemy weeks before. 

"Madam, consider yourself under arrest!" was 
the Major's address to ubiquitous Mother Bicker- 
dyke. 



524 "ALL RIGHT, MAJOR ! i'm ARRESTED." 

To which she replied, as she flew past him with 
hot bricks and hot drinks, " All right. Major! I'm 
arrested! Only don't meddle with me till the weather 
moderates; for my men will freeze to death, if you 
do!" 

A story got in circulation that she was put in the 
guard-house by the Major; but this was not true. 
There was some little official hubbub over her 
night's exploits, but she defended herself to the 
officers who reproved her, with this indisputable 
statement, " It's lucky for you, old fellows, that I 
did what I did. For if I hadn't, hundreds of men in 
the hospital tents would have frozen to death, ^o 
one at the ISTorth would have blamed me, but there 
would have been such a hullabaloo about your heads 
for allowing it to happen, that you would have lost 
them, whether or no." Some of the officers stood 
boldly by her, openly declaring that she had done 
right, and advised her to pursue the same course 
again, under the same circumstances. This was 
needless advice, as she would assuredly have done 
so. 

The men for whom she labored so indefatigably 
could mention her name only with tears and benedic- 
tions. And those in camp manifested their approval 
of her by hailing her with three times three deafen- 
ing hurrahs whenever she appeared among them, 
until, annoyed, she begged them " for Heaven's 
sake to stop their nonsense, and shut up ! " 

Every form of sufiering came at once that winter, 
in that section of Tennessee. While the inclement 
weather was at its worst, the men wei-e sufl'ering 
from short rations, consequent on their distance from 
the base of supplies, and the lack of railroad com- 



MAN AND BEAST SUFFER FOR FOOD. 525 

munication. They were in the enemy's country, 
which had been stripped and peeled for the suste- 
nance of their own troops. It was impossible to 
keep the large army in that vicinity fully supplied, 
until the railroad from Nashville was completed — 
and that was being pushed forward with all possible 
despatch. Whole brigades were called out to receive 
as their daily rations three ears of corn to a man, 
while the horses and mules were served more gener- 
ously. For the famished beasts had not the spirit of 
the American soldiers to keep them alive, whether 
well fed or not. And yet so wild with hunger were 
many of the men, that a guard stood over the ani- 
mals while they were feeding, to protect them from 
the pilfering of the soldiers — and this did not 
always restrain them. 

In the meantime General Burnside, in command of 
the IS^inth and Twenty-third Corps, had crossed the 
mountains to Eastern Tennessee. Leaving behind 
his commissary wagons, and subsisting his army on 
such poor rations as came in their way, avoiding the 
safe and travelled routes, which were strongly de- 
fended by the rebel army, he moved so secretly and 
rapidly that his approach was not even suspected. 
The rebel troops were panic-stricken at the appear- 
ance of the Union forces, and fled in dismay, leaving 
behind them in Knoxville a large quantity of quarter- 
master's stores. So confident was General Bragg of 
his ability to manage the army under Grant and 
Sherman at Chattanooga, that he sent Longstreet 
with his division to recapture Knoxville, of which 
General Burnside had taken possession. It was the 
only instance during the war when the Union forces 
sustained a siege. For three weeks Burnside and 



526 "they shall have relief." 

his men were locked up in Knoxville, enduring the 
pangs of hunger, expecting hourly the assaults of the 
enemy, and ignorant of the fate of the army at Chat- 
tanooga. 

At last, Burnside managed to send a despatch to 
General Grant, saying that his supplies would not 
last a week, and asking for help. Knoxville was 
ninety miles distant, and to reach it in time to save 
Burnside would require heavy marching. When 
Sherman received the order to go to his relief he 
said : " Seven days before, we left our camps on the 
other side of the Tennessee with two days' rations, 
without a change of clothing, stripped for the fight, 
with but a single blanket or coat per man, from my- 
self to the private, included. We have no provisions 
but what we have gathered by the road, and are ill- 
supplied for such a march; but fifteen thousand of 
our fellow-soldiers are beleaguered in the mountain 
town of Knoxville; they need relief, and must have 
it in three days. That is enough, and it shall he 
done ! " 

His tired troops cheerfully consented to follow 
their leader on this long march, and started that 
night. They pressed forward rapidly, at great cost 
of men and animals, determined to accomplish their 
errand. But their rapid approach, flushed with vic- 
tory, was sufficient to drive off" the besiegers from 
Knoxville; and, when they had seen Longstreet de- 
camp with his tatterdemalion troops, they turned and 
marched back to Chattanooga. 

Many of them were in a deplorable condition; for, 
when the Fifteenth Corps started from the Big Black 
under General Sherman to re-enforce General Grant, 
they were clad in summer clothes, light blouses, poor 



BLOOD MARKING THEIK FOOTSTEPS. 527 

yhoes, and thin garments, ^o distribution of cloth- 
ing was made to them before they started for Knox- 
yille; for all army supplies were waiting the 
transportation of the not yet completed railroad. 
Their insufficient garments were worn out with hard 
service; and, shivering in summer rags in frigid 
midwinter, with the smallest amount of food that 
would keep body and soul together, with worn out 
shoes, and bruised feet, they came back over the 
mountains, sometimes tracking their path in blood. 
'No banners waved over them, no martial music 
inspired them; not even such cheer was theirs as 
comes from a mai-ch in serried columns, where each 
man seeks to help his comrade onward. 

But in squads of twenty, thirty, or fifty, — now in 
large companies, and then in smaller groups, — some- 
times singly and alone, — the w^eary, famished, shiv- 
ering, footsore conquerors painfully made their way 
back. Many sank on the march, and left their bones 
to bleach on the mountains. Others were so spent 
with fatigue that they reached Chattanooga only to 
die. Some live, testimonies to the hardships of that 
winter, utterl}^ broken in constitution, and doomed to 
invalidism for the remainder of a reluctant life. 

As the poor fellows trooped into Mother Bicker- 
dyke's hospital, she had little to offer them, save 
sympathy and kind words. She, brave w^oman, was 
on short rations with the rest, and often gave up her 
meagre allowance of food to some wistful, weary 
soldier less able to fast than herself. But she sup- 
plied them with warm water for their swollen and 
bleeding feet, which had been wrapped by the men 
in the cut-off skirts of their blouses, on the return 
march. Sometimes the cloth had festered into the 

32 



528 " A STARVATION COOK-BOOK ! " 

wounded feet, aiid it required careful luu-siug to save 
them from amputation. She taxed her ingenuity to 
make much out of the little they possessed, and con- 
cocted outre soups of unusual materials, for which no 
cook-book has ever given receipts. 

^N^othing that she did was amiss with them; and 
the singular ^^reparations of food which she some- 
times furnished them from an almost empty larder, 
were devoured with the keenest relish. "When I 
get home, boys," she used to tell the men, jocularly^ 
" I shall publish a starvation cook-book, containing 
receipts for making delicious dishes out of nothing." 
If any one could prepare such a manual. Mother 
Bickerdyke is that person. 

At last, as the winter was ending, the railroad was 
completed. One day, when the gloom hung deepest 
over camp and hospital, a distant and not very dis- 
tinct sound, as of a steam whistle, aroused the atten- 
tion of the long-enduring men. Hospital patients 
sat up, hushed, voiceless, listening for its repetition. 
It came presently; and as the train rounded the 
curve to the station, the grateful sound of a long, 
loud, shrill blast from the whistle of the locomotive 
smote their ears. It was pleasanter music than any 
instrument of sweetest note could make. 

One mighty shout from camp and hospital an- 
swered it; and then a tide of blue-coated humanity 
surged down to welcome the incoming train. That 
long-expected train signified to them food, clothing, 
warmth, comfort, communication with the far-off 
homes, from which no tidings had reached them for 
months. They were not forgotten — the long-silent 
IS^orth was reaching down to them with hundred- 
handed bounty. 



RELIEF CAME AT LAST. 529 

Up sprang the maimed from their cots, and reached 
for their rongh crntches. Up slowly crept the feeble 
who had thought themselves done with life, and had 
turned their faces heavenward. Men who could 
not walk were led along between those who were 
stronger, or sometimes borne on the backs of the 
strongest. And as they saw the long, loaded train 
halt in their midst, they went wild with joy. They 
cheered the railroad — the train — the IS'orth — the 
food that had come — the barrels of " Boston crack- 
ers," speedily unheaded for them. They patted the 
giant locomotive, and caressed it as though it were a 
pet horse. And when three times three cheers were 
proposed for home, men who were dying, and whose 
last breath exhaled from their lips a few minutes 
later, threw up their white wasted hands, and their 
lips moved in wordless sympathy with the great roar 
of shouts from manly throats. 



CHAPTER XXYII. 

STORY OF MOTHER BICKERDYKE CONCLUDED — FOLLOWING 
THE FLAG IN THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN — HER MOTH- 
ERLY MINISTRATIONS IN THE MIDST OF BATTLE — HER 
LIFE AND CAREER SINCE THE WAR. 

Mother Bickerdyke makes an eloquent Speech — Disregards Sherman's 
Orders, and calls on him. Obtains the Favor she seeks — Six Months 
in the Rear of Battles — Death of General McPherson — Sherman 
begins his March to the Sea — Mother Bickerdyke packs all Hospital 
Supplies, and sends to Nashville — Goes to meet Sherman, with a 
Steamer loaded with Supplies, as he directed — They are not needed, 
and she cares for the Andersonville Prisoners — The War ends, and she 
returns to Louisville — Her Life since the War — The Government 
grants a pension to her — The Soldiers do not forget her — Her Effort 
to keep a Hotel in Kansas not a Success — Unsectarian, but Christian — 
Her present Home. 

'OW for the first time, and the only time, 
Mother Bickerdyke broke down. The 
hardships through which she had passed, 
her labors, her fastings, her anxieties, had 
been sufficient to kill a dozen women. She 
was greatly reduced by them; and as soon as 
her place could be supplied by another matron, she 
came N^orth, a mere shadow of her former self. 

The same efforts were made to honor her as on a 
previous visit; but, as before, she put aside all invita- 
tions. She had rendered great service to the Wis- 
consin regiments in the Western army; and the 
people of Milwaukee, who were just then holding a 

530 




ELOQUENT SPEECH IN MILWAUKEE. 531 

fair for the relief of sick and wounded soldiers, 
would not be denied the jileasure of a visit from her. 
I accompanied her, for she refused to go anywhere 
to be lionized unless some one was with her, " to bear 
the brunt of the nonsense," as she phrased it. She 
was overwhelmed with attentions. The Milwaukee 
Chamber of Commerce had made an appropriation 
of twelve hundred dollars a month for hospital relief, 
to be continued until the end of the war. And she 
was invited to their handsome hall, to receive from 
them a formal expression of gratitude for her care 
of Wisconsin soldiers. Ladies were invited to oc- 
cupy the gallery, which they packed to the utmost. 
A very felicitous address was made her by the Pres- 
ident of the Board of Trade, in behalf of the state 
of Wisconsin, and she was eloquently thanked for 
her patriotic labors, and informed of the recent 
pledge of the Board. A reply was expected of her, 
which I feared she would decline to make; but she 
answered briefly, simply, and with great power. 

"I am much obliged to you, gentlemen," she an- 
swered, " for the kind things you have said. I 
haven't done much, no more than I ought; neither 
have 3^ou. T am glad you are going to give twelve 
hundred dollars a month for the poor fellows in the 
hospitals ; for it's no more than you ought to do, and 
it isn't half as much as the soldiers in the hospitals 
have given for you. Suppose, gentlemen, you had 
got to give to-night one thousand dollars or your 
right leg, would it take long to decide which to sur- 
render? Two thousand dollars or your right arm; 
five thousand dollars or both your eyes; all that you 
are worth or your life? 

" But I have got eighteen hundred boys in my hos- 



532 " GTVElSr AN ARM, A LEG, AN EYE ! " 

pital at Chattanooga who have given one arm, and 
one leg, and some have given both; and yet they 
don't seem to think they have done a great deal for 
their country. And the graveyard behind the hospi- 
tal, and the battle-field a little farther off, contain the 
bodies of thousands who have freely given their lives 
to save you and your homes and your country from 
ruin. Oh, gentlemen of Milwaukee, don't let us be 
telling of what we have given, and what tee have 
done! We have done nothing, and given nothing, in 
comparison with them! And it's our duty to keep 
on giving and doing just as long as there's a soldier 
down South fighting or sufiering for us." 

It would not be easy to match the ^oathos and elo- 
quence of this untutored speech. 

As soon as she had regained health and strength, 
Mother Bickerdyke returned to her post. General 
Sherman was pouring supplies, provender, and am- 
munition into Chattanooga; for it was to be his base 
of supplies for the Atlanta campaign. He had issued 
an order absolutely forbidding agents of sanitary 
stores, or agents of any description, to go over the 
road from ]^ashville to Chattanooga. He alleged as 
the reason foi- this prohibition that he wished the 
entire ability of the railroad devoted to strictly active 
military operations. There was great distress in the 
hospitals below l^ashville, in consequence of this 
stringent order, and uneasiness and anxiety at the 
^orth, because of its seemingly needless inhumanity. 
Mother Bickerdyke found Kashville full of worried 
agents, and of sanitary stores that were needed down 
the road, and spoiling for lack of transportation. 
Her pass from General Grant would take her to 
Chattanooga despite General Sherman's prohibition. 



"guess he will see me." 533 

Before starting, her fertility of invention manifested 
itself in a characteristic act. Ambulances with mules 
in harness were being sent to various points, against 
the day of need. 'No barrels were allowed in these 
ambulances; but all the bags they could hold could 
be crowded in. Getting such help as she could mus- 
ter, they made bags, which were filled with dried 
apples, peaches, potatoes, and any other sanitary 
articles that could be sent in them as well as in bar- 
rels; and the ambulances went awaj^ packed with 
articles for the hospitals. Forty such left for Hunts- 
ville, Ala., thirty for Bridgeport, and several for other 
points. Then Mother Bickerdyke, despite remon- 
strance and opposition, took the next train for Chat- 
tanooga, and made her unexpected dehut at General 
Sh er m a n ' s he a dqu a r ter s . 

"Halloo! Why, how did you get down here?" 
asked one of the General's staff ofl3.cers, as he saw 
her enter Sherman's headquarters. 

" Came down in the cars, of coui-se. There's no 
other way of getting down here that I know of," 
replied the matter-of-fact woman. " I want to see 
General Sherman." 

"He is in there, writing," said the officer, pointing 
to an inner room; " but I guess he won't see you." 

" Guess he will! " and she pushed into the apart- 
ment. " Good morning. General ! I want to speak to 
you a moment. May I come in? " 

" I should think you had got in ! " answered the 
General, barely looking up, in great annoyance. 
"What's up now?" 

" Why, General," said the earnest matron, in a per- 
fect torrent of words, " we can't stand this last order 
of yours, nohow. You'll have to change it, as sure 



534: "i can't stand pooling all day." 

as you live. We can get along without any more 
nurses and agents, but the supplies we 7nust have. 
The sick and wounded men need them, and you'll 
have to give permission to bring them down. The 
fact is. General, after a man is unable to carry a gun, 
and drops out of the lines, you don't trouble yourself 
about him, but turn him over to the hospitals, ex- 
pecting the doctors and nurses to get him well and 
put back again into the service as soon as possi- 
ble. But how are we going to make bricks without 
straw? Tell me that if you can." 

" Well, I'm busy to-day, and cannot attend to you. 
I will see you some other time." But though Sher- 
man kept on writing, and did not look up. Mother 
Bickerdyke saw a smile lurking in the corner of his 
mouth, and knew she would carry her point. So 
she persisted. 

" ^o, General ! Don't send me away until you've 
fixed this thing as it ought to be fixed. You had 
me assigned to your corps, and told me that you 
expected me to look after the nursing of the men 
who needed it. But I should like to know how I 
can do this if I don't have anything to work with? 
Have some sense about it now. General ! " 

There was a hearty laugh at this, and a little 
badinage ensued, which Mother Bickerdyke ended 
in her brusque way, with, " Well, I can't stand fool- 
ing here all day. ]S'ow, General, write an order for 
two cars a day to be sent down from the Sanitary 
Commission at ^Nashville, and I'll be satisfied." The 
order was written, and for weeks all the sanitary 
stores sent from ISTashville to Chattanooga, and the 
posts along that road, were sent directly or indirectly 
through this mediation of Mother Bickerdyke. 



THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGIST. 535 

When General Sherman was prepared to move on 
his Atlanta campaign, Mother Bickerdyke with Mrs. 
Porter accompanied the army on its bloody bnt 
victorions march. They were constantly in the im- 
mediate rear of the fighting, and made extraordinary 
exertions to keep the department of special relief at 
its very highest point of efficiency. In this they 
were aided by the Sanitary Commission, and by the 
army officers. It was not unwise for officers to 
reveal to Mrs. Bickerdyke enough of army plans to 
enable her to make preparation for coming emergen- 
cies, for she always proved a safe depositary of 
secrets. Those who worked with her most con- 
stantly saw that she generally knew when to have 
prepared in the hospitals, huge kettles of coffee, soup, 
and mush; when to have rough beds made of pine 
and hemlock boughs with the large stems cut out, on 
which were spread blankets; when to order for- 
ward teams laden with supplies, following herself in 
close proximity in an ambulance. They attributed 
her promptness to intelligent foresight; but it was 
actual knowledge of coming events, in most cases. 

I desi3air of giving any account of the work 
accomplished by Mrs. Bickerdyke and Mrs. Porter 
from April to ]N^ovember of 1864. What it is to 
*' follow an army " when there is no fighting in prog- 
ress, can only be understood by those who have 
experienced it. What it was to follow Sherman's 
ai'my in that Atlanta campaign, when it fought every 
foot of the way, over rugged mountains, through 
deep, narrow ravines, through thick, primitive woods, 
across headlong rivers — to follow with only the one 
aim of ministering to the exhausted, the suffering, the 
wounded, the dying — with only a blanket and a 



536 IN^ THE MIDST OF BATTLE. 

pillow for a bed — the roar of artillery, the clash of 
arms, the cries of distress, and the shout of battle 
continually resounding — to live night and day in 
the midst of these horrors, in constant attendance 
upon the mangled and anguished soldiers brought to 
them from the rear, or taken to their extemporized 
hospitals, — this cannot be described. 

As they were pushing along in their ambulance on 
one occasion, packed with battle-stores, they heard 
the distant sounds of a fierce cannonade — and knew 
that a battle was in progress ahead of them. On 
they went, the sounds becoming louder, clearer, and 
more distinct. I^Tow it was mingled with the crash 
of musketry, the calls of half a hundred bugles, the 
thundered commands of ofiicers leading their men 
to the conflict, the yells of the infuriated soldiers as 
they hurled themselves on their antagonists with the 
shock of an avalanche — and sometimes, overtopping 
all, the awful cries of mortal agony, that came up 
from the battle-field, from men writhing in every form 
of ghastly wound. They were in the rear of the 
battle of Resaca. On one side were heajjed the 
knapsacks, and other impedimenta, of which the men 
had stripped themselves for the fight — on the other 
the amputating tents of the surgeons, surrounded by 
an ever-increasing quantity of mangled and dissev- 
ered limbs. The field hospitals were in readiness for 
the wounded, who lay about under trees, and on the 
grass, awaiting their turn at the amputating table, or 
to have their wounds dressed. 

In a very short time both women were at work. 
Their portable kettles, with furnaces attached, were 
set up, their concentrated extract of beef was un- 
canned, and soon the fainting and famishing men 



RECEIVED MESSAGES OF THE DYING. 537 

were uttering their thanks for the great refreshment 
of a palatable soup. In tlie interim, they dressed 
wounds, took down memoranda of hist messages to 
be sent J^orth to friends, received and labelled dying 
gifts to be distributed East, West, and ^orth, en- 
couraged the desponding, and sped the parting soul 
to Heaven with a brief verse of hymn, a quotation 
from the words of Christ, or a fervent and tender 
prayer. This arduous but blessed work they con- 
tinued at Kingston, Altoona, and Kenesaw Mountain, 
on to Atlanta. 

I^^ever were the services of women more needed; 
never were soldiers more grateful for their motherly 
ministrations. The Atlanta campaign was made a 
success, not alone by the consummate genius and 
skill of its great commander, but by downright, un- 
flinching, courageous hard fighting, such as the world 
has never seen surpassed. The whole campaign 
must forever stand unsurpassed in the annals of his- 
tory. 

N^or were the enemy less daring and wondrously 
brave than the Union forces. "For half an hour 
the two armies fought face to face, each side of the 
same line of intrenchments, with the battle colors of 
the respective armies flying from the same works." 
At the battle of Atlanta, General McPherson was 
killed, an oflicer beloved by all, civilians, privates, 
and commanders. General Grant discovered his 
worth, and depended on him, long before the public 
had heard of him. He was very able in council, or 
on the field, and was as noble and pure-minded as he 
was able. When the tidings of his death reached 
General Sherman, he turned away from his stafl" 
ofiicers, and burst into tears. ]S^or was General 



538 SHE LEFT THE DOOMED CITY. 

Grant less afflicted. Always reticent and nndemon- 
strative, he walked away to his headqnartei's, where, 
for a long time, he was alone with his sorrow. AYith 
her usual thoughtfulness, Mother Bickerdyke took 
the blouse in which General McPherson met his 
death, and which was saturated with his blood, washed 
it, and then forwarded it to the bereaved mother of 
the dead officer. 

After Shei'man had taken possession of Atlanta, 
Mother Bickerdyke went there also, pursuing her un- 
wearied work as the good Samaritan of the soldiers. 
!Not until Sherman stood detached from his commu- 
nications, with his whole force grouj^ed about 
Atlanta, ready for his march to the sea, did she pi"e- 
pare for her departure. Then she superintended the 
packing and boxing of all the hospital suiDplies, saw 
them safely and securely on their way to IN^ashville, 
and left the doomed city. And then Atlanta was on 
fire ; and, as she looked back, on her road north Avard, 
it was enveloped in smoke and flames, like a second 
Sodom and Gomorrah. 

General Sherman had directed her to meet him 
when he reached the Atlantic coast, and to bring to 
his troops all the supplies that could be gathered. 
He gave her orders for transportation on his account 
to any desired extent. She was in Philadelphia, on 
the lookout for tidings from him, when he reached 
Savannah. With his orders, she had obtained a 
steamboat from the quartermaster; and then she 
called on the Christian Commission to fill it. Its 
president, Geoi'ge H. Stuart, did not hesitate to grant 
Mrs. Bickerdyke's request. The boat was loaded 
under his direction, with choice dried and canned 
fruits, clothing, crackers, butter, cheese, tea, sugar. 



AID TO ANDERSON VILLE VICTIMS. 539 

condensed milk, tapioca, extract of beef, corn starch, 
lemons, oranges, tin cups for drinking, a span of 
mules, an ambulance for her own use , — everything, 
in short, suggested by knowledge and experience. 

It steamed to Wilmington, S. C, carrying happy 
Mother Bickerdyke along. Here the Andersonville 
prisoners were first brought, and again the indefati- 
gable woman set to work, regardless of Sherman and 
his soldiers, who were well enough without her; for 
they appeared at Savannah fat and hearty; and if 
ragged and dirty, the government was able to supply 
in full their demands for clothing and rations. But 
the poor Andersonville victims, who had been starved 
into idiocy and lunacy, now claimed her attention; 
and not until the last of these were buried, or were 
able to leave for the N^orth, did she take her depar- 
ture. 

By this time Lee had capitulated, the war was 
ended, and the whole country was given up to a 
delirium of thankfulness. Then she followed the 
stream of blue-coats to Washington, finding daily 
more work to do than a dozen could perform. She 
had the great pleasure of witnessing the grand re- 
view of the troops at Washington, and then went 
West, laboring in the hospitals at Louisville and 
]^ashville until they were closed. 

While she was at Louisville, some troops left for 
a distant post in Texas, where scurvy was making 
sad havoc. As a quantity of anti-scorbutics could 
be forwarded to the sufferers in the care of these 
soldiers, Mrs. Bickerdyke decided it should be done. 
The vegetables could reach their destination without 
trans-shipment; the captain of the boat promised to 
delay the departure of the steamer until their arrival 



540 "l MEAN WHAT I SAT." 

on the wharf. Under difficulties that would have 
thwarted any women less resolute than Mrs. Bicker- 
dyke and Mrs. Porter, wagons were hired, the pota- 
toes loaded, and started for the wharf, both ladies 
accompanying the shipment. The rain poured in 
torrents, the mud was almost impassable, and the 
drivers made slow time. "When they reached the 
landing the boat was far out in the stream. 

"It shall come back!" said indomitable Mother 
Bickerdyke; and, rising in the wagon, while the 
rain pelted both women piteously, she beckoned 
energetically to the boat to return. The captain saw 
her, and seemed to be considering. With yet more 
emphasis and authority, she waved renewed signals 
for a return. The boat slackened speed. IS^ow, 
drivers, bystanders, and both women, by pantomime, 
that expressed entreaty and command, urged the 
boat to retrace its course. It rounded to, steamed 
back to the landing, and took the anti-scorbutics on 
board. 

" I didn't think you could get them down here in 
this pouring rain, especially as it is Sunday! " ex- 
plained the captain. 

" DidnH think ! " said Mother Bickerdyke. " Sakes 
alive ! What did you suppose I meant when I told 
you they sliould be here at the time you appointed? 
I mean what I say, and I like to have folks do as 
they agree." 

The next morning a caricature appeared in the 
shop windows of Louisville, representing a woman in 
a Shaker bonnet ordering a government steamer with 
a wave of her hand. A copy of it found its way to 
the rooms of the Commission. 

For a year after the war, Mother Bickerdyke 



ENGAGES IX HOUSE-KEEPING. 541 

served as house-keeper in the Chicago " Home of the 
Friendless," where the fiimily averaged one hundred 
and fifty. Sucli liouse-keeping never was known 
there before. It seemed small business to her, how- 
ever, and she became discontented and left. She 
pushed West into Kansas, which was fast filling up 
with returned soldiers, who were eager to locate the 
one hundred and sixty acres of land given them by 
government within the limits of that promising 
state. She pre-empted her claim with the " boys," 
taking care to secure it, so that eventually it would 
become the property of her sons. 

Encouraged and aided by the Kansas Pacific Rail- 
road Company, she opened a hotel at Salina, a town 
of about a thousand inhabitants at that time, lying on 
the Santa Fe route. Five trains daily passed to and 
fro through the town, while the " prairie schooners," 
as the emigrant wagons were called, maintained an 
almost unbroken procession westward past her doors. 
She called her house "The Salina Dining-Hall "; but 
everybody else called it " The Bickerdyke House." 
In her dining-room, where one hundred and ten per- 
sons could be comfortably seated, one was always 
certain of an excellent meal, well cooked and well 
served, while the neatness of the whole establishment 
was proverbial. There were thirty-three sleeping 
rooms in the house, plainly furnished, but glorified 
by wonderful cleanliness. When she could p^ij for 
the property she was to become its owner. Were 
Mother Bickerdyke the excellent financier that she is 
nurse and house-keeper, she would now be in posses- 
sion of a comfortable home and of a valuable piece 
of property. It is not often that one woman com- 
bines in herself all excellent, or even necessary qual- 



542 AIDING SUFFERERS IN MICHIGAN. 

ities ; and Mother Bickerdyke's hotel passed out of 
her hands through her lack of financial skill. 

When Kansas was ravaged by locusts, and the 
people were brought to the verge of starvation, she 
came East to solicit help for them. Carloads of 
food and clothing were forwarded to various reliable 
parties for distribution, at her suggestion, while she 
remained in the field, stimulating continued dona- 
tions. She went to Washington to plead for seed 
for the farmers, which was granted in abundance, 
and only ceased her efforts when the needs of the 
destitute people were supplied. 

She repeated this merciful work when the forest 
fires of Northern Michigan swept away millions of 
dollars worth of property, and caused the loss of 
hundreds of lives. The suffering and destitution 
of that section of country were inexpressible, and 
Mother Bickerdyke bent her energies again to the 
work of relief, distributing in person the supplies she 
collected. Her executive ability was called into 
requisition, as, with her customary ubiquity, she was 
here and there and everywhere, seeking to rebuild 
homes which had been destroyed, and to gather 
households dispersed by the merciless conflagration. 

At present, she resides in San Francisco, where 
she has a position in the U. S. Mint. More than 
eighteen years ago, her friends began to petition 
Congress to grant her a pension. Their efforts were 
persistent and earnest, until, a year ago, they were 
crowned with success, and a monthly pension of $25 
was given her. It was a niggardly and tardy recog- 
nition of her heroic services. If she had her deserts 
she would be handsomely provided for by Govern- 
ment. But the Grand Army Posts of the country 



HER PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 543 

do not forget her, and her friends will bear her on 
their hearts, through life. 

Last summer she came to Massachusetts for a 
brief visit with her old friends. She arrived at my 
home at the close of a dismally rainy day, wet and 
exhausted. She had spent the day in Boston, search- 
ing for an old soldier from Illinois, who had served 
out three terms in the house of correction, for drunk- 
enness, during the last ten years. I remonstrated. 
" My dear friend, why do you, at the age of seventy- 
three, waste yourself on such a worthless creature 

as B ?" Turning to me with a flash of her blue 

eyes, she answered : " Mary Livermore, I have a com- 
mission from the Lord God Almighty to do all I 
can for every miserable creature who comes in my 
way. He's always sure of two friends — God and 
me ! " 

Mother Bickerdyke is of medium height, with 
brown hair, now well sprinkled with white, blue eyes, 
and a mouth of sweetness and firmness. When 
young, she must have possessed considerable beauty; 
for, after more than sixty years' incredible wear and 
tear of life, she is still a comely woman. Always 
cheerful, never discouraged, brave, indomitable, witty, 
shrewd, versatile, clear-headed, unique — she only 
needed early advantages to have made her a very 
remarkable woman. Sympathy with the oppressed 
and feeble, with little children, and with all who are 
in trouble, is a prominent characteristic of her nature. 
Although she is a member of the Congregationalist 
Church, yet in church matters, as in war times, she 
cuts red tape, and goes where she pleases. She 
communes now with Methodists, and now with Uni- 
tarians, just as she happens to "light on 'em," to 

33 



544 UNSEOTARIA^, BUT CHRISTIAN. 

use her own phraseology, and nobody can hmder. 
She is a practical Christian of the most genuine 
type. 

To know the estimation in which she was held by 
the army, one needs to go West. Many of my en- 
gagements are with lecture committees of Grand 
Army posts in the West. And at the first conven- 
ient moment the old veterans look into my face with 
the inquiries, " How long since you saw Mother 
Bickerdyke? " or "Isn't it possible to get a pension 
for Mother Bickerdyke?" Immediately, the mem- 
bers of their households cluster about us, and for a 
few moments every heart beats faster and kindlier, 
as her deeds of unselfish heroism are chronicled, or 
the motherl}^ tenderness of her life in the hospitals is 
discussed, for the hundredth time. 

While this book was in press, I was called to 
Kansas, a state in which one hundred and eighty 
thousand soldiers are settled. While I was there, a 
Soldiers' Convention was held in Topeka, the capital 
city, which was very largely attended. Mother 
Bickerdyke came from San Francisco, the invited 
guest of the Convention, and, just as the veterans 
were entering on their deliberations, made her ap- 
pearance in the rear of the house. 

In an instant there was a joyful confusion in the 
neighborhood of the door, a rush, a subdued shout, 
a repressed cheer. The presiding officer called for 
order, and rapped vigorously with his gavel. But 
the hubbub increased, and spread towards the centre 
of the hall. Again the chairman sought to quell the 
disturbance, rapping forcibly, and uttering his com- 
mands in an authoritative voice : " Gentlemen in the 
rear of the house must come to order, and take their 



TEARS OF MEMORY AND GLADNESS. 545 

seats! It is impossible to transact business in this 
confusion ! " 

" Mother Bickerdyke is here ! " shouted a chorus of 
voices in explanation, which announcement put an 
end to all thoughts of business, and brought every 
man to his feet, and sent a ringing cheer through the 
hall. All pressed towards the motherly woman, 
known by all soldiers in the West, many thousands 
of whom are indebted to her for care, nursing, ten- 
derness, and help, in the direst hours of their lives. 
Gray-haired and gray-bearded men took her in their 
arms and kissed her. Others wept over her. Men 
on crutches and men with empty coat-sleeves stood 
outside the surging crowd, with shining eyes, wait- 
ing their turn to greet their benefactress. 

" Why, boys, how you behave ! " was Mother Bick- 
erdyke's characteristic exclamation, as, releasing her- 
self from the smothering caresses and the strong 
imprisoning arms, she wiped away tears of memory 
and gladness. This raised a shout of laughter. 
" Oh, mother, your brown hair has grown white as 
snow," said one; " but I should know you by your 
speech, if I met you in Africa." 

"I should know her by the tender eyes and the 
kind mouth," said another. " I shall never forget 
how good they looked to me after the battle of 
Resaca, where I lost my foot, and gave myself up to 
die, I was in such pain. I tell you, it seemed as if 
my own mother was doing for me, she was so gentle. 
She looked down upon me, and encouraged me, and 
nursed me, as if I were her son." And he wiped his 
wet eyes with the back of his hand. 

Had Mother Bickerdyke been a queen, she could 
not have been more royally welcomed. It seemed 



546 EOTAI.LY WELCOMED. 

impossible for the men to pay her suflScient honor. 
They noted her increasing" feebleness, her crippled 
hands, her snowy hair, her dimming eyes, and said 
to each other, " It isn't the result of old age ; it is 
what she did for us during the war." Only that 
Mother Bickerdyke resolutely forbids it, they would 
surround her with luxury, and she would lack for no 
comfort, even if they impoverished themselves to 
obtain them. "The boys have all they can do to 
make a living for themselves and families," she says, 
" and they shall not be weighted with the care of me." 
And so, when the Convention was ended, and the 
men went back to their farms and shops and offices, 
she turned her face towards San Francisco, to take 
up again the burden of her lonely life. 

While the Massachusetts State Prison at Charles- 
town was under the management of Warden Gideon 
Haynes, I was invited to address the prisoners. At 
the close of the informal talk, Mr. Haynes gave 
the convicts who desired to speak with me permis- 
sion to remain in their seats when the rest marched 
to their cells. About a dozen accepted the invita- 
tion. Of these, three were solicitous to know some- 
thing concerning Mother Bickerdyke. "Was she 
living?" "Had she a pension?" "What was her 
post-office address?" And as each one detailed the 
circumstances of his personal acquaintance with Mrs. 
Bickerdyke, I knew enough of his story to be true 
to believe the whole. 

" Ah, if I had had a mother like her," said one, as 
we parted, " I shouldn't be here to-day. For she 
was a true mother to me — not only nursing me, but 
advising me." Similar utterances were made by 
others. 



CHAPTEE XXYTII. 

MY REMINISCENCES OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN— EXPERIENCES 
IN THE " WIGWAM " — EXCITING SCENES — MY INTER- 
VIEWS WITH THE PRESIDENT AT THE WHITE HOUSE. 

Early Life of President Lincoln — My first Knowledge of him, in 1858 — 
"The Battle of the Giants" — He is nominated in 1860 for the Presi- 
dency — My Experience in the "Wigwam" as a Reporter — The memo- 
rable Scenes attending the Nomination — My Visit to Washington in 
1862 — Gloomy Period of the War — Call on the President — His Depres- 
sion — Discouraging Statements — Wholesale Desertions from the Army 
— "To imdertake to fill up the Army is like shovelling Fleas!" — Mrs. 
Hoge and I see the President alone — His Suffering during the War — 
He contributes the manuscript Proclamation of Emancipation to the 
Chicago Sanitary Fair — A Preraimn sent him as the largest Con- 
tributor. 

lATURE is not lavish of great men, but dis- 
tributes them charily through the centuries. 
Often she evolves them from the obscurity 
where they have slowly crystallized into 
force and clearness only when the crises 
appear for whose mastership they were ordained. 
Like the stars of evening, they spring not into in- 
stantaneous being, but only appear after they have 
been slowly formed in dimness and mistiness, after 
long revolving, condensing, and gathering pale rays 
of light. Then they stand out on the brow of night, 
ever after to be the guide and admiration of men. 
It w^as thus with President Lincoln, whose life was 

547 




548 LINCOLN AS THE NATION'S LEADER. 

crowned with the glory of martyrdom. The disci- 
pline of poverty, and hard wrestling with nature in 
the blended timber and prairie country of the unsub- 
dued West, matured him to a late but sturdy man- 
hood. The softening culture of the schools was held 
aloof from him. The civic honors for which in, early 
life he struggled eluded his pursuit, and crowned 
his rival. The golden stream of Pactolus flowed far 
away from his feet. And so ^N^ature and circum- 
stance shajDed him vigorous, cool-headed, warm- 
hearted, self-poised, strong-handed. A child-like 
simplicity remained in him, that ever proved more 
than a match for the subtleties of political tricksters. 
Transcendent honesty and clear-sighted goodness 
stood him in stead of genius and inspiration. For 
half a century his manhood was built up by gradual 
accretions of power, strength, and wisdom, and the 
qualities which inspire trust, and then the great epoch 
burst upon the country, for which Providence had 
been shaping him. 

The nation was writhing in the agonies of disrup- 
tion, and the fires of a gigantic civil war were smoul- 
dering in her bosom, when Mr. Lincoln took in hand 
the reins of government. Through Gethsemanes of 
agony he led the nation steadily, on its sanguinary 
way to freedom, till the goal was won. Then death 
claimed him. One moment he was charged with a 
nation's fate; the next — a shock, a dim, blank pause, 
and he beheld the King in His glory. One moment 
the noisy and capricious applause of the people 
surged around him; the next he heard the Heavenly 
Voice, "Well done, good and faithful servant!" 
The nation sobbed its farewell to him, but still 
reaches out to him in yearning love. It hoards its 



THE BATTLE OF THE GIANTS. 549 

memories of him as priceless wealth. It exhumes 
from the past the mimitise of his daily life, and laughs 
afresh at his rare humor, and weeps anew over the 
pathos and tragedy crowded into his history. 

I well remember when I first heard of Mr. Lincoln, 
and the impression made upon me by the first words 
of his I ever heard. It was in 1858, a year or so 
after my removal to the West from ISTew England. 
He had been put forward as a candidate for the seat 
of Hon. Stephen A. Douglas in the Illinois Senate, 
whose term of office was soon to expire, and who 
was himself a candidate for re-election. The two 
aspirants for the same position " stumped " the state, 
and met in joint debate at seven points of geographi- 
cal importance. These debates created an intense 
interest; and everywhere the people flocked to hear 
them. To this day, that memorable and peculiar 
discussion is known in Illinois as " the battle of the 
giants." 

Mr. Lincoln had been nominated for State Senator 
by the Republican Convention at Springfield, 111., in 
June, 1858. He addressed the Convention on that 
occasion, and his speech constituted the platform of 
the great debate between Mr. Douglas and himself, 
at which time he made the following prophetic utter- 
ance, which has been so often quoted : — 

"A house divided against itself cannot stand. I 
believe this government cannot endure permanently 
one half slave and one half free. I do not expect 
the Union to be dissolved — I do not expect the 
house to fall. But I do expect that it will cease to 
be divided — it will become all one thing, or all the 
other." He seemed, even at that early date, to speak 
with prophetic prevision. 



550 NOMINATED FOR PRESIDENT. 

Mr. Lincoln lost the election, and Mr. Douglas 
won it. But the former gathered to himself the 
trust of all who hated slavery and loved freedom — 
while the later forfeited their confidence forever. 
Mr. Lincoln prepared the way for his triumphant 
elevation to a higher post of honor — but Mr. Doug- 
las took the initial steps towards a defeat that ended 
in death. 

It was my good fortune to be present at the 
National Convention in Chicago, in 1860, which 
nominated Mr. Lincoln to the Presidency. It was 
held in an immense building erected for the occasion, 
and known as the " Wigwam." I had undertaken 
to report the proceedings for an editor friend, and a 
seat was assigned me near the platform, where the 
electors from the several states were seated, and 
where not one word could escape me. My place was 
in the midst of the great reportoi-ial army collected 
from all parts of the country. I was fortunate above 
all women on that occasion, for the far-away gallery 
was assigned them, and they were strictly forbidden 
the enclosed and guarded lower floor, which was 
sacred to men exclusively. From the immensity of 
the " Wigwam," the proceedings could not be heard 
in the gallery, and seemed there like gigantic panto- 
mime. 

I have never understood the good luck that be- 
stowed me among the reporters at that time, nor 
how I succeeded in retaining my position when the 
oflicial attempt was made to remove me. Women 
reporters were then almost unheard of; and incon- 
spicuous as I had endeavored to make myself by 
dressing in black, like my brethren of the press, the 
marshal of the day spied me, after the lower floor 



MEN WILD WITH EXCITEMENT. 551 

was densely packed with masculinity. In stentorian 
tones that rang through the building, while his 
extended arm and forefinger pointed me out, and 
made me the target for thousands of eyes, he ordered 
me to withdraw my profane womanhood from the 
sacred enclosure provided for men, and " go up 
, higher," among the women. I rose mechanically to 
obey, but the crowd rendered this impossible. My 
husband beside me, reporting for his own paper, 
undertook to explain, but was not allowed. The 
reporters about me then took the matter into their 
own hands, and in a tumult of voices cavalierly bade 
me "Sit still!" and the marshal "Dry up!" A 
momentary battle of words was waged over my 
head, between my husband and the reporters, the 
police and the marshal, and then I was left in peace. 
The unconventional West was new to me, and I was 
a good deal disturbed by this episode, which no one 
but myself seemed to remember ten minutes later. 

I was well repaid for the annoyance, by being a 
near witness of the electric scenes which followed 
the nomination of Mr. Lincoln to the Presidency, on 
the third ballot. Who that saw the tumultuous 
rapture of that occasion could ever forget it! Men 
embraced each other, and fell on one another's 
neck, and wept out their repressed feeling. They 
threw their hats in air, and almost rent the roof with 
huzzahs. Thousands and thousands were packed in 
the streets outside, who stood patiently receiving 
accounts of the proceedings within, from reporters 
posted on the roof, listening at the numerous open 
skylights, and shouting them in detail to the crowd 
below. Sometimes, messengers ran from these re- 
porters at the skylights to the eaves of the building, 



552 ANTI-SLAVERY CANDIDATE. 

thence to vociferate to the remote but patiently 
waiting crowd outside what had just been said or 
done. They would then take up the subsiding 
chorus of shouts within, and re-echo them still more 
wildly, until they drowned the city's multitudinous 
roar, and were heard a mile away. The billows of 
this delii'ious joy surged around me, as I sat amid 
the swaying, rocking forms of men who had sprung 
to their feet and grasped each other by the hand, or 
had fallen into one another's arms, and were laugh- 
ing, crying, and talking incoherently. 

I confess I was not fully en rapport with the insan- 
ity of gladness raging around me. It seemed to me 
these demonstrations were made rather because the 
anti-slavery principle had triumphed, than because 
Mr. Lincoln himself was a special favorite. The 
great majority knew him only as a country lawyer, 
and not very distinguished at that. But they also 
knew that he was intensely hostile to human slavery, 
and had so avowed himself. " Is it certain that Mr. 
Lincoln is an uncompromising anti-slavery man?" 
I inquired of a Massachusetts reporter next me. 
" There is no humbug about it? Mr. Lincoln is not 
anti-slavery just now for the sake of getting votes, is 
he ? Can you inform me ? " 

For answer, he took from his pocketbook a little 
fragment of newspaper, which contained this extract 
from his "Peoria, 111., speech," made Oct. 16, 1854, 
and passed it to me with the simple query, " Do you 
think he can take the back track after saying that?" 
This is the quotation : — 

" Slavery is founded in the selfishness of man's 
nature — opposition to it, in the love of justice. 
These principles are in eternal antagonism; and 



"CANNOT REPEAL HUMAN NATURE." 5^0 

when brought into collision as fiercely as slavery 
extension brings them, shocks and throes and con- 
vulsions must follow ceaselessly. Repeal the Missouri 
Compromise; repeal all compromises; repeal the 
Declaration of Independence ; repeal all past history; 
you cannot repeal human nature. It will still be in 
the abundance of man's heart that slavery extension 
is wrong, and out of the abundance of the heart his 
mouth will continue to speak." 

When the President-elect left his Illinois home for 
Washington, to confront an organized and ripened 
conspiracy against the life of the nation, as he jour- 
neyed from city to city, the whole country turned 
out to look upon the man it had chosen to be its 
leader. 

On a raw February night in 1861, impelled by a 
like anxious curiosity, I went with the multitude and 
stood at the edge of an effervescing crowd — that had 
shouted itself hoarse, and was then gesticulating its 
frantic delight — that I might look in the rugged, 
homely face of our future President. Like many 
others on whose hearts the gradual disruption of the 
Union that dark winter lay like an agon}^ of personal 
bereavement, I longed to read in the face of our 
leader the indications of wisdom and strength that 
would compel the people to anchor in him and feel 
safe. His simple, unaffected, but almost solemn 
words thrilled through and through the hearts of his 
listeners. Eager lookers-on like myself hung on the 
skirts of the mercurial crowd, and the comments that 
trembled from lip to lip indicated their anxiety. "He 
seems like an honest man ! " " He is evidently im- 
pressed with the solemn responsibilities of the hour!" 
^'Will he be equal to this tremendous emergency?" 



554 "god help him fulfil the contract." 

" There is no spread-eagle nonsense about him — 
that is one consolation ! " " He has taken a big con- 
tract — God heljD him fulfil it ! " " He is probably 
not much of a statesman, nor even a politician; but 
then he is a l^orthern man, an anti-slavery man, and 
he is honest and loyal, and perhaps we could not have 
done better than to elect ' old Abe ' President ! " 
These were the comments made around me, and I 
saw that all were feeling their way to an anchorage 
in him, although few found it until a later date. 

In IS'ovember, 1862, 1 found myself in Washington, 
whither I had been summoned to attend a council of 
women connected with the Sanitary Commission. It 
was a gloomy time all over the country. The heart 
of the people had grown sick with hope deferred; and 
the fruitless undertakings and timid, dawdling policy 
of General McClellan had perplexed and discouraged 
all loyalists, and strengthened and made bold all 
traitors. The army was always entrenched or en- 
trenching. Its advance was forbidden by the autum- 
nal rains, and the policy of its commanding general, 
whatever that might have been. The rebel army was 
in front, and every day a new crop of rumors was 
harvested in reference to its purpose. One hour, 
" Washington was safe ! " and " All was quiet on the 
Potomac ! " The next, " The rebels were marching 
on to Washington ! " " They were blocking our river 
communications ! " " They were threatening to over- 
whelm our forces ! " or, " They had already taken our 
position ! " Despondency sat on every face. 

" I wonder whether McClellan means to do any- 
thing! " said Mr. Lincoln one day to a friend. "I 
should like to borrow the army of him for a day or 
two." 



WEIGHTED WITH HIS BURDENS. 555 

Those of the women who had come from the loyal 
and sangume Northwest, listened m undisguised 
amazement to the open-mouthed secession of more 
than one half the people we met; for in the North- 
west it was hardly safe to talk treason openly ; and, 
despite the discouragements of the military situation 
in the East, the people bated not one jot of their 
confidence in the ultimate restoration of the Union, 
without the loss of a single state. Our hearts died 
within us; and when the Woman's Council ad- 
journed, we were glad to accept an invitation to call 
on the President in a body. The President had 
appointed an early hour for our reception. 

I shall never forget the shock which his presence 
gave us. Not more ghastly or rigid was his dead 
face, as he lay in his cofiin, than on that never-to-be- 
forgotten night. His introverted look and his half- 
staggering gait were like those of a man walking in 
sleep. He seemed literally bending under the weight 
of his burdens. A deeper gloom rested on his face 
than on that of any person I had ever seen. He 
took us each by the hand mechanically, in an awk- 
ward, absent way, initil my friend Mrs. Hoge, of 
Chicago, and myself were introduced, when the 
name of the city of our residence appeared to catch 
his attention, and he sat down between us. 

"So you are from Chicago!" he said, familiarly; 
" you are not scared by Washington mud, then ; for 
you can beat us all to pieces in that." And then he 
asked about the weather we had had during the fall, 
the health of the city, and other matters of local in- 
terest, as one to whom the Northwest was home, and 
dear. It was explained to him that we were all iden- 
tified with the Sanitary Commission, and that we had 



556 NO KOYAL ROAD TO PEACE. 

called, before separating to our widely divergent 
homes, to obtain fi'om him some word of encourage- 
ment — something to cheer and stimulate. " I have 
no word of encouragement to give ! " was his sad 
and blunt reply. " The military situation is far from 
bright; and the country knows it as well as I do." 
There was no attempt at question or answer; but a 
momentary deep and painful silence settled on his 
auditors. 

" The fact is," he continued after a pause, " the 
people haven't yet made up their minds that we are 
at war with the South. They haven't buckled down 
to the determination to fight this war through ; for 
they have got the idea into their heads that we are 
going to get out of this fix, somehow, by strategy! 
That's the word — strategy! General McClellan 
thinks he is going to whip the rebels by strategy; 
and the army has got the same notion. They have 
no idea that the war is to be carried on and put 
through by hard, tough fighting, that will hurt some- 
body; and no headway is going to be made while 
this delusion lasts." 

Some one ventured to remonstrate against this, and 
reminded the President how hundreds of thousands 
had rushed to arms at the call of the country; how 
bravely the army and navy had fought at Forts 
Henry and Donelson, Pea Ridge, Shiloh, and JS'ew 
Orleans ; and how gloriously they had triumphed. 

He admitted this, but returned to his first state- 
ment. " The people haven't made up their minds 
that we are at war, I tell you ! " he repeated, with 
great positiveness. "They think there is a royal 
road to peace, and that General McClellan is to find 
it. The army has not settled down into the convic- 



"like shoveling eleas." 557 

tion that we are in a terrible war that has got to be 
fought out — no ; and the officers haven't either. 
When you came to Washington, ladies, some two 
weeks ago, but very few soldiers came on the trains 
with you — that you will all remember. But when 
you go back you will find the trains and every con- 
veyance crowded with them. You won't find a city 
on the route, a town, or a village, where soldiers and 
officers on furlough are not plenty as blackberries. 
There are whole regiments that have two thirds of 
their men absent — a great many by desertion, and a 
great many on leave granted by company officers, 
which is almost as bad. General McClellan is all the 
time calling for more troops, more troops; and they 
are sent to him ; but the deserters and furloughed men 
outnumber the recruits. To fill up the army is like 
undertaking to shovel fleas. You take up a shovel- 
ful," suiting the word with an indescribably comical 
gesture ; " but before you can dump them anywhere 
they are gone. It is like trying to ride a balky 
horse. You coax, and cheer, and spur, and lay on 
the whip; but you don't get ahead an inch — there 
you stick." 

"Do you mean that our men desei^t?" we asked, 
incredulously; for in our glorifying of the soldiers 
we had not conceived of our men becoming de- 
serters. 

"That is just what I mean! " replied the Presi- 
dent. " And the desertion of the army is just now 
the most serious evil we have to encounter. At the 
battle of Antietam, General McClellan had the names 
of about one hundred and eighty thousand men on 
the army rolls. Of these, seventy thousand were 
absent on leave granted by company officers, which, 



558 THE ARMY WEAKENED. 

as I said before, is almost as bad as desertion. For 
the men ought not to ask for furloughs with the 
enemy drawn up before them, nor ought the officers 
to grant them. About twenty thousand more were 
in hospital, or were detailed to other duties, leaving 
only some ninety thousand to give battle to the 
enemy. General McClellan went into the fight with 
this number. But in two hours aftei' the battle com- 
menced thirty thousand had straggled or deserted, 
and so the battle was fought with sixty thousand — 
and as the enemy had about the same number, it 
proved a drawn game. The rebel army had coiled 
itself up in such a position that if McClellan had 
only had the seventy thousand absentees, and the 
thirty thousand deserters, he could have surrounded 
Lee, captured the whole rebel army, and ended the 
war at a stroke without a battle. 

" We have a Stragglers' Camp out here in Alexan- 
dria, in connection with the Convalescent Camp, and 
from that camp, in three months. General Butler has^ 
returned to their regiments seventy-five thousand 
deserters and stragglers who have been arrested and 
sent there. Don't you see that the country and the 
army fail to realize that we are engaged in one of 
the greatest wars the world has ever seen, and 
which can only be ended by hard fighting? General 
McClellan is responsible for the delusion that is un- 
toning the whole army — that the South is to be con- 
quered by strategy." [That very week. General 
McClellan had been removed from the command of 
the army, and General Burnside — of whom the 
President spoke most eulogistically — had been ap- 
pointed in his place, but none of us knew it that 
night.] 



"better off than^ the enemy." 559 

"Is not death the penalty of desertion?" we m- 
quired. 

" Certainly it is." 

*' And does it not lie with the President to enforce 
this jienalty ? " 

"Yes." 

" "Why not enforce it, then? Before many soldiers 
had suffered death for desertion, this wholesale de- 
pletion of the army would be ended." 

" Oh, no, no ! " replied the President, shaking his 
head ruefully : " that can't be done ; it would be un- 
merciful, barbarous." 

"But is it not more merciful to stop desertions, 
and to fill up the army, so that when a battle comes 
off it may be decisive, instead of being a drawn 
game, as you say Antietam was?" 

" It might seem so. But if I should go to shoot- 
ing men by scores for desertion, I should soon have 
such a hullabaloo about my ears as I haven't had 
yet, and I should deserve it. You can't order men 
shot by dozens or twenties. People won't stand it, 
and they ought not to stand it. No, we must change 
the condition of things in some other way. The 
army must be officered by fighting men. Misery 
loves company, you know," he added ; " and it may 
give you some consolation to know that it is even 
worse with the rebel army than it is with ours. I 
receive their papers daily, and they are running over 
with complaints of the desertion of their soldiers. 
We are no worse off than they are, but better; and 
that is some comfort." 

The conversation continued for an hour, the Presi- 
dent talking all the while of the country and of the 
aspect of affairs in the most depressing manner. 

34 



560 APPEAKAJ^CE OF THE PRESIDENT. 

AYhen we left him, we agreed among ourselves that 
it would not be wise to repeat the conversation, so as 
to have it get into the papers. For, in the then 
feverish state of the public mind, whatever was re- 
ported as coming from the President, no matter 
how or by whom reported, was eagerly seized upon. 
The influence of the talk upon ourselves was too 
dispiriting for us to wish to extend its eflfect. It 
cost those of us who belonged to the IS'orthwest a 
night's sleep. The condition of the country, the 
unsatisfactory military aspect, the uneasiness of the 
people, the state of the army, all wore hues of mid- 
night before our interview with the Chief Magis- 
trate, and this had given them such additional gloom 
that we almost repented our visit to Washington. 

The next day my friend Mrs. Hoge, and myself, 
had another interview with the President, on busi- 
ness entrusted to us. If we were shocked the night 
before at his haggard foce, how much more were we 
pained when the broad light of day revealed the 
ravages which care, anxiety, and overwork had 
wrought. In our despondent condition it was diffi- 
cult to control our feelings so as not to weep before 
him. Our unspoken thought ran thus: "Our na- 
tional affairs must be in the very extremity of hope- 
lessness if they thus prey on the mind and life 
of the President. The country has been slain by 
treason — he knows it, and that it cannot rtjcover 
itself" 

Our business ended, before we withdrew we made 
one more attempt to draw encouraging words from 
the reluctant head of the nation. " Mr. President," 
we said timidly, " we find ourselves greatly depressed 
by the talk of last evening; you do not consider our 



DISCOURAGING, BUT NOT HOPELESS. 561 

national affairs hopeless, do you? Our country is 
not lost?" 

"Oh, no! "he said, with great earnestness, "our 
affairs are by no means hopeless, for we have the 
right on our side. We did not want this war, and 
we tried to avoid it. We were forced into it; our 
cause is a just one, and now it has become the cause 
of freedom." (The Emancipation Proclamation had 
just been promulged.) " And let us also hope it is 
the cause of God, and then we may be sure it must 
ultimately triumj^h. But between that time and now 
there is an amount of agony and suffering and trial 
for the people that they do not look for, and are not 
prepared for." 

^o one can ever estimate the suffering endured by 
President Lincoln during the war. I saw him several 
times afterwards, and each time I was impressed 
anew with the look of pain and weariness stereo- 
typed on his face. " He envied the soldier sleeping 
in his blanket on the Potomac," he would say, in his 
torture. And sometimes, when the woes of the coun- 
try pressed most heavily on him, he envied the dead 
soldier sleeping in the cemetery. 

" Whichever way this war ends," he said to a freind 
of mine, "I have the impression that Z shall not last 
very long after it is over." After the dreadful re- 
pulse of our forces at Fredericksburg, when the 
slaughter was terrific, the agony of the President 
wrung from him the bitter cry, " Oh, if there is a 
man out of hell that suffers more than I do, I pity 
him!" 

Mrs. Hoge and I accepted the morsel of hope given 
us by the President's last words, and went out to- 
gether. Side by side we walked up Pennsylvania 



562 QUICKEISTED TO NEW EXERTIONS. 

Avenue, quietly weeping behind our veils, neither 
trusting herself to speak to the other. But sadden- 
ing as was this meeting with the President, it was 
not without its good effect on all of us. We were 
women, and could not fight for the country. But the 
instinct of patriotism within our hearts, which had 
lain dormant when our beloved land knew no danger, 
was now developed into a passion. We returned to 
our various homes, separated by thousands of miles, 
more inspired than ever to link ourselves with the 
hosts of freedom, who were yet to work better and 
more bravely than they knew. 

The women of the Sanitary Commission set 
themselves to work in the different states of their 
residence, as their circumstances and localities de- 
manded. We who belonged to the Northwest 
resolved on a Northwestern Soldiers' Fair, to obtain 
money for the purchase of comforts and necessaries 
for the sick and wounded of our army, and immedi- 
ately began to plan for it. In the projection of this 
fair there was a double purpose. To obtain money 
was not its sole aim. We believed it would develop a 
grateful demonstration of the loyalty of the ISTorth- 
west to our struggling country; that it would en- 
courage the worn veterans of many a hard-fought 
field, and strengthen them, as they perilled their lives 
in defence of their native land; and that it would 
infuse into the scattered workers for our suffering 
soldiers an impetus that would last through the war. 

The fair came off in about one year after our visit 
to the President, and yielded the then unprecedented 
sum of nearly one hundred thousand dollars. It 
required Herculean effort to conduct this first fair. 
At first, and for a long time, only two women and no 



MOKAL INFLUENCE OF THE FAIR. 563 

men were interested in it; and this was enough with 
many to summarily condemn it. It remained through- 
out a Avoman's fair. Unlike the East, the West had 
then few competent and able people of leisure who 
could work continuously in an enterj)rise like this. A 
large fair, pecuniarily successful, had never been held 
in the West, and was not believed possible. And 
the public mind was so pre-occupied that it was next 
to impossible for us to get a hearing for our grand 
project. But we succeeded; and the fair came off at 
the appointed time, and was found to have accom- 
plished vastly more than it contemplated. 

It attracted the attention of the whole lo3^al North 
for weeks, and was the cynosure of all eyes and the 
theme of all tongues. That it rendered good ser- 
vice to the dear cause of the country was manifest; 
for disloyalists, from first to last, assailed both it and 
its managers, publicly and privately, in the most ven- 
omous manner. The most malignant falsehoods were 
put in circulation to its detriment, while the whole- 
sale defamation of its managers, was so coarse and 
disgusting that it carried with it its own refutation. 
It was both bane and antidote in one. The sponta- 
neous enthusiasm which the fair enkindled, its electric 
generosity, its moral earnestness, and its contagious 
patriotism glorified the occasion, and were of more 
worth to the country than the money which was 
raised. Other mammoth fairs, in other large cities, 
came off after this, largely modelled on its plan, and 
largely outdoing it in pecuniary results; but by none 
was its inorale excelled. 

From the first public announcement of this fair. 
President Lincoln took a lively interest in it. He 
bore testimony again and again to its moral influ- 



5G4: THE president's gift. 

ence, and inquired concerning its progress of every 
visitant from the I^orthwest that found his way to 
the White House. We wrote with much hesitation — 
for we never forgot how he was shouldering the 
woes and cares of the country — asking for some con- 
tribution from himself to our fair. The people of 
the JS^orthwest were idolati'ously attached to him; 
and we knew that any gift from him would be prized 
above all price. So we urged our j^etition as ear- 
nestly as we knew how, and enlisted Hon. Isaac T*^. 
Arnold, of Chicago, a personal friend of Mi*. Lincoln, 
to second our prayers in person. 

" Yes," said the President, " I must send some- 
thing to that fair; but what?" 

A happy thought came to Mr. Arnold. "Why 
not send the ladies the original manuscript Proclama- 
tion of Emancipation? They can make a good thing 
out of it." 

The President wished to keep it himself, but 
finally consented; and it reached Chicago the day 
after the fair opened. On unlocking my post-office 
drawer that morning I found the precious document, 
and carried it triumphantly to Bryan Hall, one of 
the six halls occupied by the fair, where the package 
was opened. The manuscript of the Proclamation 
was accompanied by a characteristic letter, which I 
have given elsewhere. 

Its receipt was announced to the immense throngs 
crowding the building, who welcomed it with deafen- 
ing cheers. It was enclosed in an elegant black wal- 
nut frame, so arranged that it could be read entirely 
through the plate glass that protected it from touch, 
and hung where it could be seen and read by all. 

At an early condition of the fair, before a fur^oi' in 



GIFT TO THE PRESIDENT. 565 

its behalf had been aroused, a patriotic gentleman of 
Chicago offered the premium of a fine gold watch to 
the largest single contributor to the fair. The dona- 
tion of the manuscript Emancipation Proclamation 
entitled President Lincoln to this watch, which was 
elegant and valuable, and which, after being properly 
inscribed, was sent to him. He acknowledged its 
receipt, in a note written by his own hand. Since 
his death it is pleasant to know that this watch 
has fallen into the hands of his son, Robert Lin- 
coln, our late Secretary of War, who holds it 
sacred as a memento of a touching incident in his 
father's history. 



CHAPTEE XXIX. 

REMINISCENCES OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN CONTINUED — 
SCENES AT THE WHITE HOUSE— A WIFE'S SAD STORY 
AND AFFECTING PETITION — I INTERCEDE WITH THE 
PRESIDENT — HIS SYMPATHY AND MERCY. 

The President refuses to pardon a Virginia Spy — Wife of the condemned 
Illinois Major — Her sad Story — She is too mucli broken down to plead 
for her Husband's Life — " Beg the President not to allow my husband to 
be shot! " — I tell her Story — The President's Sympathy — " These Cases 
kill me " — He had already commuted the Major's sentence — His Delight 
at the Discovery — " I know all about it now" — The grateful Woman 
fainted — She is told to go and visit her Husband — The broken-hearted 
Wife goes away imploring Blessings on the President — Beautiful Re- 
ception of Miss Elizabeth Peabody — Touching Letter to Mrs. Bixby — 
Her five Sons were killed in Battle — Humorous Reply to his Advisers — 
" Keep Silence, and we'll get you safe across." 

HAD an opportunity during the war of 
witnessing the reception by the President 
of two apphcations for pardon, which met 
with widely different fates. The case of 
the fii'st was this : A young man, belonging to 
a Virginia family of most treasonable charac- 
ter, remained in Washington when the rest of the 
household went with the Confederacy. Though he 
took no active part with the loyalists of the capital, 
he was so quiet and prudent as to allay their suspi- 
cions concerning him, and finally to gain their con- 
fidence. He opened a market and kept for sale the 
very best quality of meats, supplying many of the 

566 




PUNISHMENT OF A " SPY." 567 

families of prominent officers of the government, 
and for a time the family at the White Honse. He 
even managed to obtain a sort of intimacy in some 
of these households, through the intrigues of dis- 
loyal servants. As afterwards appeared, he pos- 
sessed himself of information that was valuable to 
the rebels, and which he imparted to them promj^tly 
and unreservedly. 

When Lee moved up into Pennsylvania, in the 
summer of 1863, this young man was suddenly miss- 
ing from his place of business, and another person 
was installed in his place. " He was unexpectedly 
called away by business," was assigned as the reason 
for his absence. In one of the cavalry fights, or 
skirmishes, which occurred almost daily in Maryland, 
or Southern Pennsylvania, during that June raid of 
Lee's army, the young man was taken prisoner by 
Oeneral Kilpatrick's men, near Winchester, in a 
^' spirited brush" which the}^ had with Stuart's cavalry. 

I do not remember all the technicalities of the 
case, if indeed I ever knew them. But the young 
man was recognized, was proved to be a spy, and, 
but for the President's leniency, would have been 
hanged. Instead of the punishment of death, how- 
ever, he was sentenced to twenty years' imprison- 
ment. Immediately all the rebels of Washington 
were moving to his relief. Every wire was pulled 
that was supposed to have any power to open his 
prison door. Members of Congress were besought 
to intercede for him, and at last the President him- 
self was besieged. 

It was in the President's room, while waiting my 
turn for an interview, that I learned the above facts. 
Two persons were pleading in his behalf — a man 



568 "he deserves to be huxg." 

and a woman — the latter elegant, beantiful, and 
with a certain air of cnlture, bnt the former having 
the look of a refined villain. It was a very plausible 
story as they told it. " Their truly loyal young kins- 
man had gone into Maryland to bu}^ beeves for the 
Washington market — was ' gobbled up,' with his 
fine, fat kine, by Stuart, who confiscated his prop- 
erty and impressed its owner into his cavalry. And 
then, as if that were not calamity enough for one 
day, he was captured again by Ivilpatrick, who, nat- 
urally enough, not understanding the circumstances, 
nor the patent loyalty of his prisoner, judged him by 
the company in which he was found, and supposed 
him to be a rebel like the rest." 

The President listened impatientty and with a dark- 
ening face. '' There is not a word of this true ! " he 
burst in, abruptly and sternly, " and you know it as 
well as I do. He ivas a spy, he has been a spy, he 
ought to have been hanged as a spy. From the fuss 
you folks are making about him, who are none too 
loyal, I am convinced he was more valuable to the 
cause of the enemy than we have yet suspected. You 
are the third set of persons that has been to me to 
get him j^ardoned. I^ow I'll tell you what — if any of 
you come bothering me any more abont his being set 
at liberty, that will decide his fate. I will have him 
hanged, as he deserves to be. You ought to bless 
your stars that he got off with a whole neck; and if 
you don't Avant to see him hanged as high as Haman, 
don't you come to me again about him." The peti- 
tioners, as may be imagined, " stood not upon the 
order of their going, but went at once," and after 
their departure the President narrated the facts which 
I have given. 



THE WOMAN WAS WEEPING. 569 

The other case was of a different character. I was 
in the ante-chamber of the President's room, one 
morning, waiting- the exit of Secretary Stanton, who 
was holding an interview with Mr. Lincohi. Then, 
as my party was under the escort of a Senator, we 
were entitled to the next interview. A member of 
the Cabinet takes precedence of all who wish to enter 
the presence of the Chief Magistrate. A Senator 
ranks next, and goes in before any inferior personage. 
A member of the Honse is next in order, while per- 
sons unattended by any of these officials take their 
turn among those desiring an audience. As we were 
waiting the departure of the Secretary of War, who 
was making a long visit, I looked round upon the 
crowd who were biding their time to present their 
claims upon the President's attention. 

Standing, sitting, walking, lounging, talking, with 
hats on, and generally with mouths full of tobacco, 
there were some fifty men in attendance, and, besides 
myself, only one woman. She was sitting in a corner 
of the ante-room, with her face to the wall. Thinking 
she had shrunk into this place from shamefacedness 
at being the only woman among so many men, I 
moved a little towards her to get a peep at her face. 
I was somewhat curious to look at a woman who 
feared to face such men as were congregated about 
her, for they were not of the first order. She was 
poor looking, shabbily but neatly dressed, middle- 
aged, sunburned, and careworn. Her hands were 
tightly clenching a handkerchief, which she held close 
against her breast, with the evident effort to master 
the emotion that was shaking her whole frame, and 
she was weeping. I saw by her manner that she was 
in trouble, and my heart went out to her. 



570 "my HUSBAl^D TO BE SHOT ! " 

Putting my arm about her, I stooped and said as 
kindly as I could, " My poor woman, I am afraid you 
are in trouble; can I do anything to help you?" 
She turned a most imploring face towards me, and 
clutched my hand nervously. " Oh," said she, " I am 
in great trouble. My husband is to be shot, and if I 
cannot get him pardoned nobody can comfort me." 
A kindly appearing man stepped forward, a country 
neighbor of the poor woman, and told her story. 

Her husband was major of an Illinois regiment, 
and had served two years in the army with honor 
and fidelity. His colonel, like too many of the same 
rank, was a hard man, and, when intoxicated, abusive, 
uncontrollable, and profane. He was, however, a 
good soldier, and, in the main, popular with his men. 
While under the influence of strong drink, he had 
come fiercely in collision with the major, and a most 
profane and angry altercation ensued in presence of 
half the regiment. Foul epithets were hurled back 
and forth until the colonel called the major a 
" coward," with numerous obscene and profane pre- 
fixes which cannot be repeated. 

The major was a sober man, reticent, somewhat 
unpopular, very cool, and slow to anger; but this 
stung him. " Take that back, colonel ! " he de- 
manded, fiercely, drawing his revolver, " or you are 
a dead man." The colonel repeated the insult, even 
more offensively. Before the bystanders could inter- 
fere, the colonel fell dead by the major's hand. For 
this he was tried, convicted, sentenced to be shot, 
and was then lying in jail in Memphis, awaiting his 
death. He had written his wife a farewell letter, 
entreating her to be reconciled to the event — a 
brief epistle, which she gave me to read — full of 



"won't you talk for me?" 571 

tenderness for her, and accusation for himself, but 
evincing great manUness. The Judge- Advocate had 
also written her, urging her to go immediately to 
Washington, and in person ask the too-forgiving 
President to commute her husband's sentence to 
imprisonment. 

A sympathetic neighbor had accompanied her, and 
they had been in Washington twenty-four hours 
without having seen the President, simply from their 
modesty and ignorance of the most expeditious 
method of getting an audience with him. My ex- 
pressions of sympathy broke the poor woman com- 
pletely down. She could not stand, and she sobbed 
so hysterically that she could not talk. She had 
been unable to eat or sleep since she had heard her 
husband's sentence, and, as her townsman expressed 
it, it seemed as if " she would soon be in her coffin if 
the President did not take pity on her." 

Senator Henderson of Missouri was to introduce 
my friends and myself to the notice of the President, 
and we entreated that he would also escort this poor 
woman, and give her an immediate opportunity to 
present her petition. He gladly consented. I sought 
to allay her agitation. " ISTow you must be calm," I 
said, " for in a minute or two you are to see the 
President, and it will be best for you to tell your 
own story." 

" Won't you talk for me? " she entreated; " I am 
so tired I can't think, and I can't tell all my husband's 
story; do beg the President not to allow my husband 
to be shot." I put my arms about the poor creature, 
and pressed her to my heart as if she had been a 
sister; for never before or since have I seen a woman 
so broken down, or one who so awoke my sympathies. 



572 "these cases kill me.". 

" Don't fear! " I said; " the President does not hang 
or shoot people when he onght; and he certainly will 
lighten your husband's sentence when he comes to 
hear all the ftxcts. While her agitation was at the 
highest the door opened out into the ante-chamber, 
and Secretary Stanton came forth with a huge 
budget of important looking documents. Immedi- 
ately Senator Henderson ushered us into the apart- 
ment the secretary had vacated, two of us leading 
the trembling wife between us, as if she were a 
child learning to walk. 

The townsman of the woman was first introduced, 
who then led forth the wife of the condemned major, 
saying, " This woman, Mr. President, will tell you 
her story." But instead of telling her story she 
dropped tremblingly into a chair, only half alive; 
and, lifting her white face to the President's with a 
beseeching look, more eloquent than words, her 
colorless lips moved without emitting any sound. 
Seeing she was past speech, I spoke quickly in her 
behalf, stating her case, and urging her prayer for 
her husband's life with all the earnestness that I felt. 
All the Avhile the hungry eyes of the woman were 
riveted on the President's face, and tearless sobs 
shook her frame. The chair she sat on touched 
mine, and, with her tremulousness, it beat a tattoo 
which made me nervous. 

The President was troubled. " Oh, dear, dear!" 
he said, passing his hand over his face and through 
his hair. " These cases kill me! I wish I didn't have 
to hear about them! "What shall I do? You make 
the laws," turning to members of Congress in the 
room, " and then you come with heart-broken women 
and ask me to set them aside. You have decided 



"l KNOW ALL ABOUT IT NOW." 573 

that if a soldier raises his hand against his superior 
officer, as this man has done, he shall die! Then it 
I leave the laws to be executed, one of these distress- 
ing scenes occurs, which almost kills me." 

Somebody ventured the remark that " this seemed 
a case where it was safe to incline to the side of 
mercy." " I feel that it is always safe," replied the 
President; "but you know that I am to-day in bad 
odor all over the country because I don't have as 
many persons put to death as the laws condemn." 
The attendant of the wife gave the President an ab- 
stract of the case, which had been furnished by the 
major's counsel, and which the President began 
gloomily to run over. ]!^ow and then he looked up 
pityingly at the speechless woman, whose white face 
and beseeching eyes still confronted him, expressive 
of an intensity of anguish that was almost frightful. 

He had turned over some half-dozen pages of the 
abstract, when he suddenly dropped it, sjorang for- 
ward in his chair, his face brightened almost into 
beauty, and he rubbed his hands together joyfully. 
"Oh," said he, "I know all about it now! I 
know all about it ! This case came before me ten 
days ago, and I decided it then. The major's crime 
and sentence were forwarded to me privately, with a 
recommendation to merc}'^; and, without any solicita- 
tion, I have changed his sentence of death to two 
years' impi-isonment in the penitentiary at Albany. 

Major has been a brave man, and a good man, 

and a good soldier, and he has had great provoca- 
tions for a year. Your husband knows all about it 
before now," he said, addressing the wife; " and 
when you go back you must go by way of Albany, 
and see him. Tell him to bear his imprisonment like 



574 THE 

a man, and take a new start in the world when it is 
over." 

The major's wife did not at first comprehend, but 
T explained to her. She attempted to rise, and made 
a motion as if she were going to kneel at the Presi- 
dent's feet; but instead she only slid helplessly to the 
floor before him, and for a long time lay in a dead 
faint. The President was greatly moved. He helped 
raise her ; and when she was taken from the room, he 
paced back and forth for a few moments before he 
could attend to other business. " Poor woman ! " he 
said, " I don't believe she would have lived if her 
husband had been shot. What a heap of trouble 
this war has made! " 

The expression of the President's face as it 
dawned upon him that he had already interposed be- 
tween the major and death will never leave my mem- 
ory. His swarthy, rugged, homely face was glorified 
by the delight of his soul, which shone out on his 
features. He delighted in mercy. It gave him posi- 
tive happiness to confer a favor. 

Once after, I had the pleasure of seeing those sad 
features light up with holy feeling. It was at a 
public i-eception. General Hitchcock had led Miss 
Elizabeth Peabody, of Boston, to him, the sister-in- 
law of Hon. Horace Mann, and as such he introduced 
her. The President shook hands with her cordially, 
but evidently did not comprehend who she was, nor 
quite take in Avhat General Hitchcock had said. Pe- 
luctantly, and as if she were not satisfied, Miss Pea- 
body moved on with the general, to make way for 
others who sought the pleasure of an introduction. 
They had nearly passed from the room, when it could 
be seen from the quick light that flashed into the 



A GEI^IUS FOR KINDN^ESS. 575 

President's face that he had just comprehended what 
General Hitchcock had said, and who Miss Peabody 
was. Springing after them, he arrested their progress. 
" General," said he, " did I understand you to say 
that this lady is Hon. Horace Mann's sister?" 

"Yes," said General Hitchcock, introducing the 
lady formally once more. 

" Allow me to shake hands with you again, Miss 
Peabody ! " said the President, offering both hands, 
and shaking hers warmly. " When I first came to 
Washington, Horace Mann was in the zenith of his 
power, and I was nobody. But he was very kind to 
me, and I shall never forget it. It gives me great 
pleasure to take one so near to him by the hand. I 
thank you for calling on me." 

!No painter has ever put into the sad face of the 
President any hint of the beauty that could radiate 
and completely metamorphose his homely features, 
when his great soul shone out through them. I^o 
sculptor has ever liberated from the imprisoning 
marble the face that shone like an angel's when the 
depths of his large heart were reached. " ISTo artist 
is successful," said Hoaly, — one of the most success- 
ful painters of portraits, — " who does not bring out 
on the canvas, or in the marble, the best there is in 
his subject, the loftiest ideal of ]N^ature when she 
designed the man." If this be true, then neither 
painter nor sculptor has ever been successful with 
Mr. Lincoln's face. 

President Lincoln had a genius for kindness and 
sympathy. He travelled out of his way to do good; 
and, overwhelmed with public affairs, he found time 
for many exquisite private ministrations. Has any- 
thing ever been penned more touching than the fol- 

35 



576 FULL OF TENDERNESS. 

lowing letter, written by him to a mother whom the 
war had bereaved of five sons? 

Dear Madam, — I have seen in the files of the War Depart- 
ment a statement of the Adjutant-General of Massachusetts that 
you are the mother of five sons who died gloriously on the field of 
battle. I feel how weak and comfortless must be any words of 
mine which should attempt to beguile you of the grief of a loss 
so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering to you the 
consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they 
died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the 
anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished 
memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be 
yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom. 
Yours very sincerely and resjiectfully, 

A. Lincoln. 
Executive Mansion, Washington, Nov. 21, 1864. 

Mrs. Bixby, to whom this letter was written, had a 
sick son in the hospital at that time, who had been 
severely wounded in one of Sheridan's battles. 

And yet, to this quick and ready sympathy with 
suffering, which during the war made him " a man of 
sorrows and acquainted with grief, " he joined an in- 
exhaustible fund of humor that often did him good 
service. When I was in Washington at one time, 
people were telling this story of him, and laughing 
over it with infinite zest. 

A delegation of civilians from the ]N"orth called 
upon him to tender him some advice concerning the 
conduct of the war. He was tormented all through 
his administration with visits from self-appointed and 
zealous censors and advisers, in whom self-esteem 
supplanted wisdom, and who made up in presumption 
for what they lacked in knowledge and experience. 
They complained that he had gone too fast here, and 
too slow in another direction. He had not put the 



A HUMOEOUS ANSWER. 577 

right man in the right place, the war was being pro- 
tracted unbearably, and the people were weary of it. 
For every mistake, or failure, or shortcoming of the 
President they had a remedy in the form of advice as 
impracticable as it was impertinent. He heard them 
patiently to the end of a half hour, and then not only 
silenced their complaints, but charmed them into good 
nature with the following characteristic reply: — 

" Gentlemen, suppose all the property you are 
worth was in gold, and you had put it into the hands 
of Blondin to carry across the Kiagara Kiver on 
a tight-rope. Would you shake the cable and 
keep shouting to him, ' Blondin, stand up a little 
straighter ! ' ' Blondin, stoop a little more ! ' ^ Blon- 
din, go a little faster ! ' ' Lean a little more to the 
North ! ' ' Bend over a little more to the South ! ' 
!N^o, gentlemen, you would hold your breath as well 
as your tongues, and keep your hands off until he 
was over. The government is carrying an immense 
weight. Untold treasure is in its hands. It is doing 
the very best it can. Do not badger us. Keep 
silence, and we will get you safe across." 



CHAPTER XXX. 

MY LAST INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT LINCOLN — SCENES 
AT HIS RECEPTIONS — HIS INEXHAUSTIBLE HUMOR — HIS 
ASSASSINATION — A NATION IN TEARS. 

Chicago projects a second mammoth Sanitary Fair — Attendance of President 
and Mrs. Lincoln solicited — His comical Narration of his Experiences at 
the Philadelphia Fair — " I couldn' t stand another big Fair " — A humor- 
ous Inducement — Both promise Attendance — Mrs. Lincoln's Reception 
— The President's Manner of Receiving — Crowds in Attendance — Love 
for Children — "Stop, my little Man " — " You expect to be President 
sometime" — An unexpected Reply — The Humble welcomed — Love 
universally manifested for him — The Remains of the martyred President 
are received in Chicago — The imfeigned Grief of the Northwest — The 
Body lies in State at the Court House — " All is well with him forever ! " 

I HEIST the second mammoth Sanitary Fair 
was planned in Chicago, my friend Mrs. 
Hoge and myself were again despatched 
to Washington, 'New York, Philadelphia, 
Boston, and other cities, to seek attrac- 
tions for it; and this time to solicit the atten- 
dance of President and Mrs. Lincoln, Generals Grant 
and Sherman, with their wives, and other notables. 

Once more, and for the last time, we were admitted 
to the well-known audience-chamber, and to an inter- 
view with the good President. He was already ap- 
prised of this second fair, and told us laughingly, as 
we entered the room, that "he supposed he knew 

578 




"jostled and pulled about." 579 

what we had come for. This time, ladies, I under- 
stand you have come for me." We confessed th/it 
no less, an ambition was ours than to secure the 
President of the United States for our fair, and that 
this alone had drawn us to Washington. He said 
that he had been to one of these big fairs, and he 
didn't know as he wanted to go to another. He gave 
a most laughable account of his visit to the Philadel- 
phia fair. 

" Why," said he, " I was nearly pulled to pieces 
before I reached Philadelphia. The train stopped at 
every station on the route, and at many places where 
there were no stations, only people; and my hand was 
nearly wrung off before I reached the fair. Then 
from the depot for two miles it was a solid mass of 
people blocking the way. Everywhere there were 
people shouting and cheering; and they would reach 
into the carriage and shake hands, and hold on, until 
I was afraid they would be killed, or I pulled from 
the carriage. When we reached the fair it was 
worse yet. The police ti*ied to open a way through 
the crowds for me, but they had to give it up ; and I 
didn't know as I was going to get in at all. The 
people were everywhere ; and, if they saw me start- 
ing for a place, they rushed there first, and stood 
shouting, hurrahing, and trying to shake hands. By 
and by the Committee had worried me along to a 
side door, which they suddenly opened, pushed me in, 
and then turned the key; and that gave me a chance 
to lunch, shake myself, and draw a long breath. 
That was the only quiet moment I had; for all the 
time I was in Philadelphia I was crowded, and 
jostled, and pulled about, and cheered, and sere- 
naded, until I was more used up than I ever remem- 



580 LINCOLN INVITED TO THE FAIR. 

ber to have been in my life. I don't believe I could 
stand another big fair." 

" But," we said, " there is no escape from this 
fair, Mr. Lincoln, and this will probably be the last 
of them. The ]^orthwest won't listen to your de- 
clining; and the ladies of Chicago are circulating 
a letter of invitation to you, which will have ten 
thousand signatures of women alone. The whole 
IS^orthwest proposes to come to Chicago to see you; 
and the desire is so general and urgent that you 
must not feel like declining." 

" Ten thousand women! What do you suppose my 
wife will say at ten thousand women coming after 
me ? " 

" Oh, the invitation includes her; and we have 
already seen Mrs. Lincoln and ascertained that she 
would like to come." 

"She would? Well, I suppose that settles the 
matter, then. I know the people of the Northwest 
would like to see me, and I want to see them; and, 
if state duties do not absolutely forbid, — and I hope 
by that time they will not, — I will try to take a 
brief tour West at the time of your fair and visit it. 
I dread it, though." 

" We have talked the whole matter over," said 
Mrs. Hoge ; " and the people of Chicago will give 
you a season of absolute rest when you come. We 
will put you, except at certain times, where people 
cannot reach you with their endless shaking hands 
and making speeches." (Were the words prophetic? 
This was but five weeks before his assassination.) 

" Why, what are you going to do with me? Where 
do 3^ou propose to put me? '^ 

" We will charter a boat to take you out on Lake 



"I WILL COME," SAID HB; "l WILL COME ! " 581 

Michigan for a trip to Mackinaw, where the affec- 
tionate desire of the crowd to shake hands with you 
cannot be reaUzed." 

He rubbed his hands together in a ]3leased man- 
ner, outstretched at arm's length, as he was accus- 
tomed to do when specially delighted, and laughed 
heartily. 

"I will come," said he; " I will come! The trip 
on Lake Michigan will fetch me; you may exj^ect 
me." 

In the afternoon we attended Mrs. Lincoln's 
reception, at which the President also received calls. 
We went early, purposely for a private interview 
with Mrs. Lincoln, when we saw both together. 
The President playfully accused her of " conspiring 
to get him into another big fair like that at Phila- 
delphia, when they were both nearly suffocated." 
She did not deny the charge, but begged that the 
letter of invitation from the ladies of Chicago might 
be sent to her to present to her husband. " I told 
you my wife would be looking after those women ! " 
said the President, with a drollery of tone and ges- 
ture. 

As the crowds began to throng the lofty, spacious 
apartments, we passed out and took a stand at one 
side, where we could watch the steady influx of 
callers, and the President's reception of them. Some 
entered the room indifferently, and gazed at him 
vacantly as if he were a part of the furniture, or 
gave him simply a mechanical nod of the head. 
These he allowed to pass with a slight bow in re- 
turn, as they halted. Others met him with a warm 
grasp of the hand, a look of genuine friendliness, oi* 
grateful recognition, or tearful tenderness, and then 



582 "stop, my little man." 

the President's look and manner answered their 
expression entirely. To the lowly, to the humble, 
the timid colored man or woman, he bent in special 
kindliness. As soldiers swung themselves past him 
painfully on crutches, or dangled an empty coat- 
sleeve at their side, or walked feebly, wan and ema- 
ciated from recent sickness in the hospitals, his face 
took on a look of exquisite tenderness, and bright- 
ened into that peculiar beauty which I have often 
heard mentioned, but never seen depicted. 

'Not a child was allowed to pass him without a 
word of kindness. A beautiful bright boy about the 
size and age of the beloved son he had buried, gazed 
up reverently at the President, but was going by 
without speaking. 

" Stop, my little man ! " said Mr. Lincoln, " aren't 
you going to speak to me?" The little fellow laid 
his hand in that of the President, and colored with 
embarrassment. " You are older than my Tad, I 
guess." 

" I am thirteen, sir ! " replied the lad. 

" And you go to school, I suppose, and study 
geograpliy, arithmetic, and history, and all that. 
One of these days you mean to be President, don't 
you, and to stand here where I am, shaking hands 
with everybody?" 

" Ko, sir, I hope not!" replied the boy vehe- 
mently; "I never want to be President." 

"You may well say that — you may well say you 
hope not," answered the President; "you have 
spoken more wisely than you know." And taking 
the boy's hands in his, he looked lovingly and long 
in his face. 

A poorly dressed, humpbacked woman ap- 



HE WELCOMED THE HUMBLE. 583 

proached, whose face had that rare spiritual beauty 
often seen in connection with this deformity. Her 
histrous eyes looked up almost adoringly to the 
Chief Magistrate, but in her humility she forbore to 
offer her hand. Low bowed the President to her 
short stature, with that heavenly look in his face, of 
which I have before spoken, and he said something 
kindly in low tones to the poor cripple, that called a 
warm flush of gratitude to her face. It was impossi- 
ble not to love the President. Awkward, homely, 
ungraceful, he yet found his way to all hearts, and 
was the recipient of more affection than any man of 
the nation. 

In the midst of all the attractions of that after- 
noon, there was but one object of interest. And he 
was the tall, dark, sad, wan man, who stood in the 
middle of the room, now kindling with interest in 
those who accosted him, now sinking back in deep 
thoughtfulness, unmindful of the procession that filed 
before him, as if occupied with the grave affairs that 
for four years had rested on his heart and mind. I 
walked through the magnificent suite of rooms be- 
longing to the Executive Mansion, all thrown open. 
Everywhere rare and beautiful flowers were exhaling 
their sweetness — the exquisite strains of the Ma- 
rine Band were floating on the air — throngs of dis- 
tinguished and titled people moved though the 
apartments — and yet the homely President was the 
nucleus around which all interest and affection clus- 
tered. " God bless him ! " was the utterance which 
I heard over and over again, as I loitered an hour or 
two in the crowd. And if ever a sincere prayer 
went from my own heart, it was that which trem- 
bled on all lips, " God bless the good President ! " 



584 THE MARTYRED PRESIDENT. 

Once more I saw the President — and then in 
Chicago, which opened its arms to receive the hal- 
lowed remains of the martyred leader. For two 
weeks the city had been shrouded in its grief as in a 
pall. The people of the great metropolis, with tens 
of thousands from the farms and workshops of the 
N^orthwest, went forth to receive the illustrious dead, 
mingling their tears with the sad wailing of dirges 
that pulsed through the streets, with the solemn toll- 
ing of bells, and the heavy booming of minute guns. 

There was none of the hum of business; none of 
the rush and whirl and hot haste that characterize 
Chicago, — but closed stores, silent streets, and sad- 
ness resting on all faces. Flags bound with crape 
floated mournfully at half-mast. Black draperies 
shrouded the buildings. All talk was low and brief. 
Many wept as they walked, and on the breast or arm 
of all were mourning badges. All nationalities, 
creeds, and sects were ranged along the route to be 
taken by the funeral cortege, or stood amid the 
solemn pageantry and funereal splendor of the great 
procession. 

At the appointed hour the train arrived at its des- 
tination, bearing the corse of the man whom the 
West loved and delighted to honor. A gun an- 
nounced its arrival to the solemn crowd. The same 
order of arrangements was observed as had been 
planned for the President's reception at the fair, 
only how heavily shadowed by the atmosphere of 
death! The sacred remains were removed to the 
funeral car prepared to receive them, and then they 
moved sadly and slowly to the Court House, where 
they lay in state to receive the last visits of affection. 
Minute guns boomed steadily; bells tolled unceas- 



THE PEOPLE 11^" TEARS. 585 

ingly; sad dirges wailed their lamentations; muffled 
drums beat continuously, and the tears of the people 
fell as the cortege filed past. As the hallowed dust 
j^assed, the stricken throngs uncovered, while audi- 
ble sobs burst from the bereaved lookers-on. 

^ot thus had Chicago hoped to receive the beloved 
President. A month later, and the great Northwest 
would have prepared for him a brilliant welcome. 
Then with great shouts rending the air, with salvos 
of artillery, with thrilling strains of triumphant 
music, with songs and ovations from old and young, 
from children and maidens, with flowers and costly 
gifts, and with overflowing hearts, it had hoped to 
testify the almost idolatrous love it bore him. God 
ordered otherwise, and translated him beyond our 
poor praises — above our earthly off'erings. 

" Oh, friend ! if thought and sense avail not, 
To know thee as tliou art — 
That all is well with thee forever, 
I trust the instincts of ray heart ! " 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

HEROISM OF SOLDIERS' WIVES — WHAT THEY ENDURED AT 
HOME — A SUNDAY MORNING VISIT TO THEIR FAMILIES — 
LEAVES FROM MY JOURNAL — PATHETIC INCIDENTS. 

Petition of four hundred and eighty Soldiers in Southern Hospitals — "Ig- 
nore us, but look after oui' suffering Families!" — Heroism of Wives 
and Mothers — Visit Soldiers' Families with Chaplain McCabe — Chil- 
dren fierce and wild with Himger — An underground Room, and great 
Wretchedness — The Soldier's Widow dies in the Night — Her Mother, 
in the Darkness, defends the Body from Rats — The Baby falls from the 
Chamber Window, while the Mother is away washing — A colored 
Woman turned out on the Sidewalk, with her dying Child, for unpaid 
Rent — Her Husband fighting under Colonel Shaw, in the Fifty-fourth 
Massachusetts — Governor Andrew sends me Carte blanche in the way 
of Relief for Families of that Regiment — The Historian should remem- 
ber the Heroism of the Hearthstone. 

'^^'^^^T a Sanitary Convention held in Des Moines, 
la., a ])etition was presented from four hun- 
dred and eighty soldiers in the general hos- 
pitals at the South, asking, among other 
things, that the people of that state would 
look after the welfare of their families while 
they were in the service of the country. "We are grate- 
ful for all kindnesses shown us," was the language 
of these veterans. " We appreciate your noble and 
thoughtful charity, which reaches us in camp, in the 
hospital, and on the battle-field. But we prefer that 
you should forget us, and leave us to struggle with 
our fate as we may, if you will but look after our 

586 




"look after our families." 587 

wives and children, onr mothers and sisters, who 
are dependent upon us for support. A severe winter 
is before them, and we are rent with anxiety as we 
remember their slender resources, and our meagre 
and irregular pay. Succor them, and withhold your 
charity from us." 

I often heard the same entreaty from men in the 
hospital and in camp, from men in health and on the 
march, and from men just passing into eternity. 
" Our wives and children, our mothers and sisters, 
who will take care of them? " Public sympathy was 
easily awakened for the brave men who went out to 
fight the battles of the country, and all demands 
made on the means and money of the loyal North for 
their relief were promptly met. Money and supplies 
were poui-ed without stint into the Sanitary Commis- 
sion ; and wherever an opportunity was offered, either 
by the return of a regiment, or by visits to the hos- 
pitals, the people delighted to lavish their bounty 
directly on the soldiers. 

But an immense amount of heroism among the 
wives of soldiers passed unnoticed, or was taken as a 
matter of course. For the soldier, he had his com- 
rades about him, shoulder to shoulder. He had 
excitement. He had praise, if he did well. He had 
honorable mention, and pitying tears, if he fell nobly 
striving. But alas for his wife! Even an ofiicer's 
wife, who had sympathizing friends, who had the 
comforts and many of the luxuries of life, whose 
children's future was provided for if their father 
fell, — what hours of dreadful suspense she passed, 
even under those favorable circumstances ! 

But for the wife of the poor soldier, who in giving 
her husband to her country gave everything; who 



588 PRAYING FOR "papa TO COME HOME." 

had no friend to say " Well done ! " as the lagging 
weeks of suspense crept on, and she stood bravely at 
her post keeping want and starvation at bay; whose 
imagination was busy among the heaps of dead and 
wounded, or traversing the wretched prison-pens, 
and shuddering at the thought of their demoniac 
keepers; who kept down her sobs as her little 
daughter offered up nightly prayers for " dear papa 
to come home ! " or her son traced slowly with his 
forefinger the long list of killed and wounded " to 
see if father's name was there " ; who shrouded her 
eyes from the possible future of her children should 
her strength give out under the pressure of want and 
anxiety; compared with her sharp mental torture, the 
physical suffering of the soldier sinks into insignifi- 
cance. This silent army of heroines was too often 
forgotten. They were martyrs who died and made 
no sign. The shouts of far-off victories drowned 
their feeble wailings, and the horrors of hospitals 
overshadowed deeply their unobtruded miseries. 

During the progress of one of the sanitary fairs, I 
called on a man and wife for help in the evening 
entertainments, when the wife observed, "You are 
doing a great work in aiding to relieve the sufferings 
of the soldiers; but there is another class, quite as 
worthy, that receives but little attention." 

" What is that? " I inquired. 

" The destitute families of soldiers in the field and 
of soldiers deceased. My husband enlisted in the 
beginning of the war. He left a good situation 
which had yielded us a comfortable living; and I was 
willing he should, for I was as patriotic as he, and 
knew that the country needed his services. He was 
to send me ten dollars of his monthly pay. A man 



I 



AN" ARMY OF HEROINES. 589 

of wealth promised to pay my rent the first year. 
Another was to furnish the winter's fuel. And 
another was to supply me with work from his cloth- 
ing store. I had three children to provide for, the 
eldest six years, the youngest three months. I ex- 
pected to live more economically than ever before, 
and I was willing to do so for the sake of the coun- 
try. My husband's regiment received marching 
orders, and, although it was almost like burying 
him, I bore up under his departure, and put the best 
foot forward, remembering how much now depended 
upon me. 

"Almost immediately my husband got sick and 
was sent to the hospital, and there he remained nine 
months, crippled with rheumatism. All that time 
not a cent of his pay reached me. My rent was paid 

the first three months, and then Mr. removed to 

!N^ew York, and that was the end of his promise. 

Mr. , who was to help me in the matter of fuel, 

forgot his promise ; and when I went to him to remind 
him of it, he complained of his own poverty and of 
the high prices of fuel, and answered me so rudely 
that I never troubled him afterwards. I only got 
sewing from the clothing store three months out of 
twelve. I cannot tell you what I suffered during the 
first eighteen months. That winter I was in such 
poverty that I could not obtain food sufficient for us 
all. The cries of my hungry children almost drove 
me mad, and to them I carried all the food I obtained, 
often suffering from hunger myself so that I longed 
to die. 

" Matters went from bad to worse. I was forced 
to move three times because of unpaid rent, and at 
last there came a time when I was without money, 



590 TEMPTED TO SUICIDE ! 

food, almost without fuel, aud utterly without work 
or the prospect of any. I broke down in utter de- 
spair, and one night, after my children got asleep, I 
rushed down to the lake shore, determined on suicide. 
At the last moment my courage failed me, as I thought 
of my three helpless little children left with no one to 
care for them. I am an Englishwoman, and I had 
never before known want, and had never begged. 
But as I went back to my children that night, my 
pride was humbled, and I resolved to go to the poor- 
master in the morning and ask that we might be sent 
to the poorhouse. But in the morning relief came. 
I received a letter from my husband, with a hundred 
and thirty dollars in it, and that saved me that time. 

" As the months went on the pressure became so 
terrible that at my entreaty my husband sought his 
discharge, and obtained it, and came home. You 
would call the means employed to obtain his dis- 
charge dishonorable, and he would not have resorted 
to them but for the fact that his family was starving. 
He might have remained in the service a year longer 
if we had been cared for. I could tell you of other 
cases harder than mine." 

A few weeks later, a slight, 'delicate, pale-faced 
woman entered the rooms of the Commission about 
ten in the morning, whose face told us immediately 
that she was in suffering. I knew her as a soldier's 
wife with five small children, for she had been to me 
before. With a burst of agonized feeling, which no 
one who witnessed will ever forget, she said, " What 
shall I do? For God's sake tell me what I shall do! 
My children have literally, absolutely had not one 
mouthful to eat since ten o'clock yesterday morning. 
All yesterday afternoon I tried to get work at wash- 



" DO HELP MY POOR CHILDREl^." 591 

ing, scrubbing, or cleaning house. Some did not 
want me then; others wanted help immediately, but 
thought me too feeble for their work; others prom- 
ised me work in a day or two ; and I went home as 
empty-handed as I started. I was going to try again 
this morning, faint as I am for lack of food; but I 
have left my children famishing, crying with hunger, 
and I have come to beg. For God's sake do some- 
thing for my poor little children ! " 

A wealthy lady standing by, who had heard the 
story with streaming eyes, gave the poor mother ten 
dollars, and hurried her back to buy food for her chil- 
dren. Others interested themselves in her directly, 
and before night there was sent to the soldier's wife 
and her children a barrel of flour, two barrels of 
potatoes, two hams, a bushel of beans, twenty pounds 
of pork, fifty dollars' worth of groceries, a ton of coal, 
and a half-cord of wood sawed and split. It was not 
often, however, that relief came so quickly or in such 
abundance. 

On one occasion the week had been so crowded 
with work that I was obliged to devote Sunday morn- 
ing to visiting some half-dozen soldiers' families, con- 
cerning whom I was feeling great anxiety. Chaplain 
McCabe, of the Christian Commission, who had been 
a chaplain in the army, and was captured at the battle 
of Bull Run, spending months in Libby Prison, 
wished to accompany me in these visits. He desired 
to witness for himself the poverty and distresses of 
the families of men in the field. With one exception 
I had visited every family on which we called for a 
year or longer, and knew their circumstances inti- 
mately, so that there was no chance for imposition. 
I transcribe from my journal the details of the visits 



592 :n'0 pood for her family. 

made that morning, as they were written out on my 
return : — 

" Visit number one was made to a German woman, 
whose husband is in the Twenty-fourth Illinois, now 
before Atlanta, Ga. She has seven children, the two 
youngest of whom cannot walk, — one from paralysis, 
and the other from its babyhood. Her husband left 
her eighteen dollars when he went away, and he has 
sent her money but once since, as he has been most of 
the time in the hospital. They own a little house with 
three rooms, built on leased ground; but the lease 
expired the first of this month and the land has been 
sold to an Irishman, who wishes the house moved off. 
What to do, she is unable to decide. Where she can 
lease a new lot, or obtain the money for leasing, and 
for moving the house, she does not know. If her 
husband were at home, all would be well; for his 
neighbors with one voice testify to his industry and 
sobriety. 'He is too much patriot,' they cry; 'he 
fight too much in the army.' And to prove their asser- 
tion they tell you he went into the revolutionary war 
of Europe in 1848, leaving his family then in distress- 
ing circumstances. 

" Three times in a year the poor woman has been 
to me, weeping bitterly because she had not a mouth- 
ful of food for herself and children. On one occa- 
sion she brought three of her younger children into 
my kitchen. Ordinarily they are exceedingly quiet 
and well behaved ; but this time they were so hungry 
that they were fierce and wild, and caught at food 
like animals, eating so rapidly and voraciously that I 
had to interfere lest harmful results would follow in 
the matter of digestion. To feed, clothe, and warm 
her family this winter, she has only her own labor to 



HEROIC IN SUFFERING. 593 

depend upon, and the irregular and small remittances 
from her husband. She washes, cleans house, and 
picks rags. Both the house and children were scru- 
pulously clean, although indicative of extreme pov- 
erty; and the mother, though worn with care and 
labor, says she does not regret her husband's enlist- 
ment. ' It was right,' she says." 

" Kumber two was an American family. The 
father is in the ^Ninety-first Illinois, and is in 
Yicksburg, guarding the prison. He is a carpenter, 
and could earn two and a half to three dollars per 
day if he were at home. His wife is a lovely, deli- 
cate woman, with three children. The husband is a 
noble fellow, and has only expended five dollars at 
the sutler's in two years ; and that has been for sta- 
tionery. He has drawn as little clothing as possible, 
and sends all his money home. It has reached his 
wife with unusual regularity. She owns a sewing- 
machine, gets plenty of work; for she is a most 
skilful needlewoman, aside from being a good oper- 
ator on the machine. She is able, with the assistance 
of her husband's pay, to get along comfortably. But 
the last hundred dollars from her husband, brought 
up by one of his discharged lieutenants, was gambled 
away by the latter when coming up the Mississippi. 

" She has lately fallen ill and been confined to 
her bed by sickness. The loss of this money plunged 
her into poverty, which, with the instinct of Ameri- 
can women, she kept to herself. At last the unpaid 
rent had accumulated to thirty dollars, and she was 
in imminent danger of being turned out of doors. 
Food and fuel were gone, and starvation stared her 
in the face. All the while she wrote brave, cheerful 
letters to her husband, hiding the truth from him, 



594 DISTRESSING CASES. 

and assuring him all was well. She would not dis- 
tress him with the narration of troubles he could not 
remedy, she said; and so suffered and kejDt silence. 
I learned accidentally of her destitute circumstances. 
It is needless to say that speedy relief was carried to 
her and her weeping children. 

" Her husband also learned accidentally how sad 
was the plight of his family, and besought his com- 
mander so earnestly for a furlough, that three weeks' 
leave of absence was given him. That visit brought 
the wife back from the verge of the grave; and, 
when her husband returned to his regiment, leaving 
her the money he had earned at his trade during his 
furlough, which a few generous people had largely 
increased by donations that they compelled him to 
accept, she again took up her burden of life, a little 
stronger to bear it. She cannot work yet; but she 
is not foi'gotten by the generous and patriotic, and 
will not be. 

" Visit number three was to an underground room, 
in an old tumble-down building, on Wells Street, 
which is inhabited by nine families, one half of whom 
live in cellars, below the level of the street. Here, 
the wife of a soldier in one of the Ohio regiments, an 
American woman, died some two months since. I 
only learned of the case after she was dead. I went 
in the morning to the apartment, and found her aged 
mother, over seventy, with two children, two and 
four years of age, her only surviving relatives. They 
were so poor that they had not even a bit of candle, 
nor a drop of kerosene, nor a stick of fuel with 
which to make a light during the night, when the 
dying woman asked her mother to read some verses 
from the Scriptures, as she was passing away. The 



DEFENDING THE LIFELESS BODY. 595 

dreadful underground room is infested with rats, and 
during the remainder of the night the aged mother 
stood by her daughter's bedside, fighting the rats 
from the lifeless body. 

" A few weeks after the mother's sorrowful death, 
the youngest child died. There remain now only the 
aged grandmother and the boy of four years. The 
husband was killed in the army some eight months 
before. They have no acquaintances, except among 
those who are in such abject poverty that affection 
is killed by it. They have no near relatives. The 
aged grandmother clings to her little grandson, who 
is her onlv tie to life. The suffei'ino^s of the dead 
mother and the entire family have been fearful; and 
the attenuated figure of the little boy and of the 
aged woman tell a story of starvation. 'No one 
knew them until suftering had done its dreadful work 
on the young soldier's widow, and laid her at rest 
from the sorrows of life. 

" The poor grandmother is an object of the deep- 
est commiseration. I never go to her comfortless 
home that I do not surprise her in tears. She is 
afraid her dead daughter has failed of heaven; and I 
am always compelled to go over my grounds of as- 
surance that all is well with her. Chaplain McCabe, 
who listened to the poor woman's story, prayed and 
sang with her, and bade her be comforted with the 
confident assertion that her daughter was with the 
blessed. Arrangements are nearly completed to 
place the grandmother in the Old Ladies' Home, and 
to take the little boy into the Home of the Friend- 
less. 

" ^NTumber four was a soldier's family whose heavi- 
est burdens have been removed by the return of the 



596 "a quee^ might the??- envy me!" 

husband and father to his family. He has been dis- 
charged from the service, in consequence of serious 
injuries received in the left hand, arm, and side, from 
the bursting of a shell. He has found a little light 
employment, v^^hich, Avith the work of his energetic 
American wife, renders them comparatively indepen- 
dent of charity. She has toiled, suffered, and endured 
patiently, in his long absence, to support herself and 
child. Since the return of her crippled husband, 
the pinched look has left her face, and the pallor of 
death has been supplanted by a healthy hue. ' If I 
could only get plenty of work,' she says, ' I should be 
so happy that a queen might envy me ! ' 

" ^N'umber five was the wife of one of the men who 
are forcing their way into Mobile under Admiral Far- 
rao-Qt. She is one of the better sort of Irish women; 
and, though she rarely receives money from her hus- 
band, she earns enough to support herself and little 
daufrhter. When well, she needs no assistance; but 
a week's sickness or the loss of a week's Avork puts 
her in a tight place. 

" ]^umber six is a w^oman whose husband is in the 
Seventy-secoiiii Illinois. She has three children to 
maintain, whom she has to neglect in order to earn 
bread for them. Almost every day, week after week, 
she leaves the two younger in the care of the older, 
a little girl of nine years, and goes out to work, wash- 
ing, scrubbing, and cleaning, from seven in the morn- 
ing till six in the evening. Last week, when her 
children were locked up in the room in her absence, 
the baby, eighteen months old, fell out of the second- 
story chamber window, and was taken up for dead. 
It did not kill the child immediately, but he may yet 
die from the effects of the fall. He was taken to the 



ATE VI 




FAMOUS UNION BJ\i i L.h.- b l.j\ 

i'Hth NH. H.-.^'l. 2. First HJ ■ ■ ' ■ ' -^' 

Fill)' foui-lh '("oloroillMass.Ri'g'l . 5. First \'e> 

^Fdi- Deturi/iliorif: Kf/> /■ ,- 
PHOTOGRAPHED AND PAINTED FROM THE ORIGINAL FLAGS EXPRESSLY FOR THIS WOF. 



Mass Kod'l. 



"not buried like a pauper." 599 

children's ward of the hospital, where he can receive 
the care and nursing that his mother cannot give 
him. She is worn to a skeleton with hard work, but 
rarely complains, or asks for help. These last two 
women occupy three miserable attic rooms together, 
paying ten dollars per month for rent; and they 
render each other all the assistance in their power. 
Poor as they are, they are very helpful to one an- 
other. 

" N^umber seven was a colored woman, whose hus- 
band has been in the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts, 
under Col. Robert G. Shaw, from its organization. 
'Not a cent has yet been paid by government to any 
colored soldier who has gone from Chicago. This 
woman was a slave when the war began, — is still, as 
far as any manumission by her master is concerned. 
Since her husband's absence, she has passed through 
hunger, cold, sickness, and bereavement. Her land- 
lord, a rich man of the city, a German, put her out 
of her house on the sidewalk, in a cold rain storm, 
because she owed him five dollars for rent, and could 
not then earn it, as her child was sick unto death with 
scarlet fever. One of her colored neighbors, as poor 
as she, took her in; and the baby died on the next 
Sunday morning. She came to me to get the baby 
buried, without going to the poormaster. ' It don't 
seem right for my child to be buried like a pauper,' 
she said, ' when her father is fighting for the coun- 
try.' And I agreed with her. 

" A way was devised to give the little one decent 
burial; and the mother's heart is comforted by the 
thought that her child will never have to pass through 
what she has. The woman's husband was born a 
slave in Beaufort, S. C, and thither his regiment 



600 HELP CAME TO THE NEEDY. 

was first ordered. He has learned to read and write, 
and wrote me a most graphic account of the battle in 
which his heroic colonel, the brave Robert G. Shaw, 
was killed. I made the poor woman supremely 
happy by reading to her a letter from Governor An- 
drew of Massachusetts, giving me cay^te Blanche for 
the relief of the families living in Chicago whose 
husbands and fathers have enlisted in the Fifty- 
fourth. I promised to help her to house-keeping 
again, as soon as she can collect her scattered house- 
hold goods. 

" I^umber eight was the Avife of another colored 
soldier of the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts. She has 
four children, and has not received any of her hus- 
band's earnings. Government has not paid him. 
She is lying very sick with typhoid fever. I glad- 
dened her by telling her of Govei'nor Andrew's 
letter, which will immediately procure her a physi- 
cian and nurse, medicine, and food for her children. 
Chaplain McCabe sang her a beautiful hymn, in his 
melodious and expressive style, and then prayed with 
her. The colored people in the neighborhood, whom 
music always attracts, silently flocked into the room, 
as he sang and prayed ; and, as they stood weeping 
and listening, I found it difficult to repress my own 
tears for the friendless and feeble wives of the sol- 
diers, of whose sad condition I know so much. They 
are not remembered, nor ministered to, nor sympa- 
thized with, as they should be." 

If the history of this war shall ever be written in 
full, whatever else the historian may forget, he will 
not fail to chronicle the sublime valor manifested at 
the hearthstone, all over this struggling land. 



. CHAPTEK XXXII. 

MY FIRST PUBLIC SPEECH— CROSSING THE MISSISSIPPI IN A 
ROW-BOAT — "A VOICE FROM THE FRONT " — FACING AN 
AUDIENCE FOR THE FIRST TIME — AN EVENTFUL NIGHT. 

Return from the Front — Accept Invitation from Dubuque to address the 
Ladies — Ferry-boat detained by moving Ice in the Mississippi — Cross 
in a Row-boat — The Trip attended with much Danger — The Risk as- 
sumed — Many prophesied evil Results — Tliey proved false Propliets — 
Crossed the River safely — "All Iowa will hear you to-night"— Appalled at 
the Prospect — Am advertised for a Lecture, without being consulted 
— "A Voice from the Front!" — Fear to attempt a public Speech — 
Hesitation overcome by Colonel Stone's Argument — The Results that 
followed — An Iowa Sanitary Fair is planned and carried out — Aggre- 
gates nearly $60,000. 

CAME up the Mississippi River the last of 
April, 1863, where I had been spending 
some weeks in work among the hosj^itals. 
I found my desk loaded with invitations to 
visit aid societies, or deliver addresses, in 
which I should narrate my experiences. All 
were eager to hear directly from the army at the 
front, which was fighting not the enemy alone, but 
swamp fever, malarial diseases, and, worse than all, 
scurvy. The invitation which I decided to accept 
was one which in the order of date was first given, 
and that took me to Dubuque, la. The ladies had 
written as follows : — 

601 




602 VISIT TO DUBUQUE. 

" The hall in which we hold our meetings will 
accommodate about three hundred. We shall pack 
it for an afternoon meeting. We want you shoTild 
narrate to the ladies who will be in attendance what 
you have seen. Explain to them the need of sani- 
tary stores — how it happens that the government 
does not do everything for the soldiers — and what 
is the particular kind of relief most necessary. In 
the evening we shall adjourn to a larger hall, where 
we shall have music, sell cake, ice cream, hot coffee, 
and other refreshments, and where we hope the 
attendance will be doubled. The great attraction 
will be your presence, and the fact that through you 
the gentlemen can get such information as they may 
desire. If we have good weather, we shall clear one 
hundred dollars." 

I started the night before from Chicago, on one of 
the Pullman sleepers, and reached Dunleith — now 
East Dubuque — early in the morning. ISo bridge 
then spanned the Mississippi at that point — it was 
only a possibility in the future. A ferry-boat took 
passengers across. But as we alighted from the 
train, we saw the boat on the opposite side, with no 
prospect of being able to steam across immediately. 
The ice had moved down from the upper river, and 
was wedged in great masses opposite Dubuque, the 
broken and ponderous sheets grinding against each 
other and stretching from shore to shore. All fer- 
riage of freight and passengers had ceased for 
twenty-four hours, and we only increased the anx- 
ious and impatient crowd; most of whom vented 
their displeasure at this unwelcome blockade in use- 
less imprecations on the railroad officials. 

I spent the weary day watching the unmoving ice, 



THE KIVER CROSSED SAEELT. 603 

and wondering what was to become of my engage- 
ment in the evening. About three in the afternoon, 
I observed two men, on the Dunleith side, launching 
a row-boat where the river was open. By dint of 
earnest entreaty, and promise of handsome payment, 
I persuaded them to row me over. They assured nle 
that I would be drowned — and one of them declared 
" if she were my wife^ she shouldn't go a step ! " I 
was not so certain of that. And I also knew that the 
boatmen were accustomed to this mode of conveyance, 
and had no expectation of being drowned themselves. 
If they dared take the risk, I need not fear to accom- 
pany them. My fellow-passengers bade me " good- 
bye " ruefully, prophesying, with the boatmen, that 
I should be drowned — or, at least, " handsomely 
ducked." They all j^roved false prophets. 

It took a long while to cross, for the men were 
obliged to row up-stream, above the loose ice, into 
clear water, and then to descend the river on the 
Dubuque side. I was safely landed, at dark, a mile 
above the regular wharf. I found my wa}^ to the 
house of my friend, who was to entertain me. A 
great shout of joy welcomed me as I entered the 
door. She was the President of the Aid Society, 
and the ladies had gathered in her parlors to ar- 
range a new programme for the evening, as they 
despaired of keeping the promise they had made the 
public. Talking all at once they began to inform 
me of their grand arrangements for the evening, 
which my unexpected arrival would enable them to 
carry out. 

So great an interest had been awakened that they 
had decided to hold their meeting in the evening in 
the Congregational church, and, to encourage me. 



604 "all IOWA WILL HEAR YOU." 

they told me that neither Professor Agassiz, nor 
Bayard Taylor, who had lectured in it that winter, 
had been able to fill it with their voices. Governor 
Kirkwood was to preside; the Governor-elect, Col- 
onel Stone, who was at home from the army with a 
gunshot wound, was to be in attendance ; so were the 
Adjutant-General, the Attorney-General of the state, 
the leading members of the Legislature of both 
Houses, the Indian Commissioner, and, in short, 
almost all the magnates of the state of Iowa. 

" You never could have a better opportunity to 
talk to all Iowa ! " said the women, all in one breath. 
" For every county of the state will be represented 
in the audience to-night, and everything is auspicious 
of large results. How immensely fortunate that you 
were able to cross the river ! " 

I was appalled and dumbfounded. At that time, 
I had never attempted a public address to a promis- 
cuous audience. I had only addressed audiences of 
women, sitting in a chair decorously before them, 
and trying with all my might to keep ray hands 
folded on my lap. I had no idea whether I had voice 
to reach an audience such as the ladies had invoked 
— or courage to bear me through the ordeal. I was 
sure of one thing — that I had nothing whatever to 
say to a congregation so imposing in numbers and 
in character, and I flatly refused to carry out their 
programme. 

" You never should have made these arrangements 
without consulting me ! " was my frightened re- 
joinder. "I am not a public speaker; I have never 
made a speech in my life, and never have addressed 
any but companies of women. I had something to 
say to you, ladies, as the Aid Society, but it is not at 



" I CANNOT DO IT." 605 

all worthy to be presented as an address to the great 
audience that you have unwisely called together. 
I cannot do it ! " 

The ladies protested. They had exteiisively ad- 
vertised the evening meeting, and the town was gay 
with colored placards, announcing in letters as large 
as my hand, not only my name, but " the title of my 
lecture " ^ '' A YoiOE from the Front!" — for so 
they had christened my unborn speech. They knew 
I could do all they had promised in the bills, if I 
would only attempt it. They had not supposed it 
was necessary to consult me — they had taken it for 
granted that I could talk to three thousand as well 
as three hundred — and to back down because men 
were, in part, to compose the audience, why, that 
was too absurd — I must not think of such a thing. 
But the more they urged and persuaded, the more 
cowardly and helpless I became, until, at last, my 
courage took an utter stampede, and I was hardly 
able to talk coherently with them in the parlor. IS^o 
shallop left on the shore by the retreating tide was 
ever more helpless or inert than I felt myself to be. 
There was no float in me — and I could not believe 
thei'e ever would be. 

Gentlemen began to arrive — governors, generals 
home on furlough, colonels, adjutants, and they all 
joined their entreaties to those of the crestfallen 
women. But they might as well have entreated a 
post. The thing was not in me. I dared not at- 
tempt it. At last it was settled that Colonel Stone, 
the Governor-elect, in whose regimental hospital I 
had spent some days, and with whom I had had an 
acquaintance at the front, should make my speech 
for me. I was to tell him what I intended to say to 



606 " GOD HAS PREPARED THIS OPPORTUNITY." 

the women — to give him all the points which I 
wished enforced — to transfer to him such phases of 
my experience as would be particularly interesting, 
and, above all, to acquaint him with the sore need of 
large quantities of sanitary supplies. And especially 
with the fact that the Army of the Mississippi was 
suffering extremely from a lack of anti-scorbutics. 

The hour for the meeting arrived. The church 
adjoined my place of entertainment. The gentlemen 
came in to hurry us, in advance of the advertised 
hour, for the house was so packed that not another 
person could enter, nor was an inch of standing 
room unoccupied. Dreadfully chagrined and de- 
pi'essed — but much less humiliated than I, the inno- 
cent cause of their abasement — the ladies of the 
Aid Society went ahead to the seats reserved for 
them. Then the dignitaries of the state followed, 
while Colonel Stone and I brought up the rear. As 
we passed down from the parlor, he drew me by the 
arm into the lower reception-room, the door of which 
stood open as we were passing. Closing the door 
and turning the key in the lock, he stood with his 
back to it, and faced me. 

" I have no expectation, Mrs. Livermore," he said, 
" that I can in the least change your decision con- 
cerning the evening address, but this has occurred to 
me. I have seen you at the front, watched your work 
in the hospitals, and believe you are in earnest, and 
are honest. When you tell me that you want to be 
a hand or a foot, an eye or an ear, a voice or an influ- 
ence in the work of assisting the country in its sad 
hour of trouble, I believe just what you say; I think 
you mean it. To-night God has prepared for you an 
opportunity to speak to all Iowa. You have not 



"how dare you say, 'i cant^ot do it'?" 607 

wished it. The ladies of the Aid Society have not 
done it. These eminent gentlemen have happened 
here on various errands, and this opportunity has, in 
a certain sense, come about providentially. IS^ow, how 
dare you, when God has given you such an opportu- 
nity to do a great work, how dare you refuse, and say, 
*I cannot do it'? It is not necessary for you to de- 
liver an oration; it is only necessary to say to the 
great audience in the church just what you had come 
prepared to say to the ladies of the Aid Society. It 
will be more effective than any labored speech, or any 
carefully prepared address. It is for you to say 
whether the evening shall be a success for the hospi- 
tals of the South — whether the state of Iowa shall 
commence doing sanitary work, or whether this grand 
occasion shall prove a failure." 

He spoke very impressively, looking me earnestly 
in the face. For a few moments we stood silently 
confronting each other. Somehow I felt the full 
force of all that he had said, and there came over me 
a complete revulsion of feeling. I felt willing to un- 
dertake what I had flatly refused to do while talking 
with the ladies, and a subtle consciousness stole over 
me that I should succeed in it. I said, " Very well. 
Colonel Stone, I will attempt it; only do not allow 
long preliminaries; and after Governor Kirkwood 
has opened the meeting, let him introduce you as the 
orator of the evening. You must explain to the peo- 
ple that I am not a public speaker; that I have 
never in my life made a public address; that I 
have only come prepared with a small statement of 
facts for the Ladies' Aid Society; and then intro- 
duce me as quickly as possible, and I will do the 
best I can." 



608 MY FIRST PUBLIC ADDRESS. 

I followed him down the aisle of the church to the 
platform, erected in front of the pulpit, where a seat 
was reserved for me. The ladies of the Aid Society 
looked their astonishment. As speedily as possible 
Colonel Stone presented me to the great gathering. 
I rose by a suj^reme effort, trembling in every fibre 
of my being, although outwardly appearing calm. 
Shutting out all thought of the expectant multitude 
before me, I concentrated my mind upon what I had 
to say. For the first ten minutes I talked into utter 
darkness. It was as if the house was unlighted. I 
did not even hear the sound of my own voice — only 
a roaring, as if ten thousand mill-wheels were thun- 
dering about me. The knocking of Belshazzar's 
knees was not a circumstance to the play that mine 
kept up. The jjhysical tumult into which this effort 
plunged me was exhausting. It would have pros- 
trated a feebler woman, and it was days before I recov- 
ered my usual calmness of nerve and steadiness of 
poise. 

But gradually it began to grow light about me. I 
began to hear my own voice. I could, after a little, 
distinguish the faces of people whom I knew. I was 
aware that I was being heard all over the house. 
Then I lost all sense of fear, and after the first fifteen 
minutes I forgot the audience, the fact that I was a 
novice as a public speaker, and only remembered the 
destitution, sickness, and suffering I had seen at the 
front. And the feeling grew strong within me that 
the people of Iowa, who had, as I knew, contributed 
but little to the cause of hospital relief, Tnust be 
aroused to do their share of the work. Once I was 
interrupted by long and loud applause. I Avas so 
absorbed that I did not understand it for a moment, 



GREAT ENTHUSIASM AWAKENED. 609 

and looked around to see what had fallen. I thought 
some of the seats had given way. 

When I closed I supposed I had spoken half an 
hour; I had in reality talked an hour and a quarter. 
Governor Kirkwood immediately followed. " With- 
out any attempt at speech-making," he said, "Mrs. 
Livermore has to-night given us facts. She has told 
us of the soldiers' needs; she has told us of our 
duties. It is now our turn to speak, and we must 
speak in dollars and gifts." And asking Colonel Stone 
to keep the tally of the contributions, he called for 
donations. 

I cannot describe the scene that followed. More 
rapidly than two could record it, eight thousand 
dollars in money were pledged, five hundred barrels 
of potatoes, eighty-eight barrels of sauer-kraut, one 
hundred and fifty bushels of onions, which are the 
very best anti-scorbutics, and five hundred pairs of 
hospital shirts and drawers. 

Attorney-General Bissell now rose, and said: 
"Mrs. Livermore has told us that it is possible 
for Iowa to do a great deal through a sanitary fair, 
and, as the fair epidemic has travelled eastward all 
over the country, until it has exhausted itself on the 
Atlantic coast, I think it will be well for us to in- 
voke its re-appearance here in Dubuque. It is now 
almost eleven o'clock. If those who must leave the 
house will retire as rapidly as possible, the rest of 
us will remain; and, if Mrs. Livermore will assist 
us, we will organize the skeleton of an association 
for an Iowa Sanitary Fair." 

Yery few left the church. When the meeting ad- 
journed, at half-past twelve, subject to the call of the 
President on a future occasion, the organization for 

37 



610 PATRIOTIC IOWA! 

a sanitary fair was well formed, and the plans 
pretty well mapped out. With these results attend- 
ant on my first speech, is it surprising that I have 
accepted the platform as powerful in the advocacy of 
a good cause, or in advancement of a great reform? 

From the beginning of the war Iowa had nobly 
responded to the call of the country. From her 
sparse population she had sent forth her sons to 
assist in the defence of freedom and the subduing 
of the rebellion, until she was then twenty thousand 
ahead of her quota. On every battle-field Iowa men 
had won an imperishable name for the lofty courage 
with which they had contemned death. From almost 
every home in Iowa, wives and mothers, sisters and 
lovers, had surrendered to the exigencies of war those 
dear to them as their heart's blood. Under the call 
for men for the " hundred days' service," the colleges 
and institutions of learning had sent forth their 
entire senior classes, so that there was not a college 
Commencement that year in Iowa. And for the 
same reason the courts had adjourned, and all legal 
and United States business had been postponed for 
the present. 

But while Iowa had contributed so nobly of her 
sons to the country, she had not kept pace with the 
other N^orthwestern states in the sanitary work for 
the relief of the sick and wounded. There had been 
reasons for this. A diversity of opinion as to the 
best methods of doing this work was probably the 
most potent. The sanitary supplies had largely been 
sent through unreliable channels, and so had failed 
to reach those for whom they were intended. This 
had brought discouragement throughout the state. 
But this evening meeting in the Congregational 



IOWA FAIR A GREAT SUCCESS. 611 

church quickened the whole state mto intense ac- 
tivity; and in the furor which followed, she outdid 
her sister states, which had been longer at work. 

After making arrangements at home for my 
absence, I spent some months in Iowa, riding in 
" mud-spankers," in stages, " prairie schooners," on 
railroads, and in every conceivable way. I held 
meetings, and did whatever was necessary, in connec- 
tion with the men and women who had organized 
for this purpose, to make their sanitary fair a great 
success. 

It opened in the last week of June, 1864. I had 
been kept informed of its steady growth, and was 
jDrepared for something creditable, but was surprised 
by its beauty and magnitude. It was a wonderful 
fair, when all that pertained to it was fully compre- 
hended. It was held west of the Mississippi, where 
the refinements and luxuries of civilization were not 
supposed to exist in large measure. It was held in 
a new state, where railroads were not numerous, 
and where prairie stage-coaches were still the prin- 
cipal conveniences for travelling. 

At that time more than half the territory of the 
state was in the hands of Eastern speculators, who 
refused to open it to immigration. The male popu- 
lation had been so drained by the repeated calls of 
the country, that women were aiding in the outdoor 
work of the farms, all through the state, ploughing, 
reaping, mowing, and threshing. The fair was held 
in a state not rich, save in the great hearts of its 
loyal men and women, and its broad acres of virgin 
prairie, holding uncounted wealth in its bosom. 
There were no ladies and gentlemen of elegant leisure 
among her people. Few 'idlers or listless hangers-on 



612 "lOWA EXCELLED THEM ALL." 

were there, all being engaged in the earnest work of 
subduing nature, — in building highways and rail- 
roads, bridges and steam-boats, school-houses and 
warehouses, and in bringing the soil under cultivation. 

As I entered the spacious City Hall building, three 
stories high, completely occujDied by the fair, and 
went from one department to another, each filled with 
articles tasteful, beautiful, and useful, I was aston- 
ished at the great variety of wares displayed. This 
latest born of the great sisterhood of fairs seemed, at 
a coup d^ceuil, equal in beauty and general effect to 
any of its predecessors. 

It was intended to hold the fair for one week only. 
But, finding it impossible to carry out the purpose of 
the executive committee, it was decided to continue 
it a week longer. The gross receipts of the first 
week were sixty thousand dollars. It was a splendid 
result, and an unjDaralleled success, when all the cir- 
cumstances were considered. At the end of the 
second week the managers of the fair were able to 
announce their net profits as nearly sixty thousand 
dollars. In estimating all the disadvantages under 
which this far-away state labored from the outset, 
and recalling her patriotism, loyalty, and generosity, 
one is forced to say, " Many states did excellently ; 
but Iowa excelled them all! " 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

EEMINISCENCES OF THE WAR— TOUCHING STORY OF A RING- 
— THE MAJOR WHO CRIED FOR MILK — CAPTURE OF GEN- 
ERAL GRANT — "OLD ABE," THE WISCONSIN WAR EAGLE, 
AND HIS WONDERFUL CAREER. 

Confronted by one of my own Letters — The widowed Mother tells her 
Story — Puts her dead Daughter's Ring on my Finger — Officers' Hospi- 
tal at Memphis — Its wretched Condition — Is made comfortable by the 
Commission — Incident at the Fabyan House, White Mountains — "Do 
you remember the Major who cried for Milk ? " — Second Sanitary Fair 
in Chicago — Held after the War ended — Regiments, Soldiers, and Offi- 
cers received there — An Ovation to General Grant — Executes a flank 
Movement on the People — Is captured by young Ladies — ' ' This beats 
Vicksburg all out of Sight!"— "Old Abe," the Eagle of the Eighth 
Wisconsin — His military Behavior — Children sell his Pictures for the 
Soldiers' Fair — Make $16,308.93 by the Sales. 

THE GIFT OF A SOLDIER's WIDOW AND MOTHER. 

OME few years ago I filled a lecture engage- 
ment in Albion, Mich. At the close of the 
lecture, I observed, standing outside the 
little group of acquaintances who sur- 
rounded me, a white-haired, elderly woman, who 
approached me with the following inquiry : — 

" Do you remember writing a letter for John , 

of the Twelfth Michigan, when he lay dying in the 
Overton Hospital, at Memphis, in the spring of 1863? 
After he died, you completed the letter, writing to 
his mother and wife; do you remember it?" 

I was obliged to tell the sad-faced woman that I 
performed so many offices of this kind during the 

613 




614 "your letter saved us." 

war, when at the front or in the hospitals, that it was 
hardly possible for me to recall any individual case. 

Drawing from her pocket a letter, that had been 
worn in pieces where it had been folded, and which 
was sewed together with fine cotton, she held it up 
to me., 

" Do you remember this letter? " 

I recognized my penmanship, and, glancing over 
the contents of the letter, saw what it was. The 
first four pages I had written at the dictation of a 
young man who had been shot through the lungs, and 
was dying. The language was his, not mine, and I 
had not amended his phraseology. I had completed 
the letter after his death, by the addition of three 
pages, in which I sought to comfort the bereaved 
survivors. 

" I thought John's wife and I would die when we 
heard he was dead," said the long-bereaved mother. 
" Your letter saved us. We were both comforted by 
it, and read it and re-read it, even when we had 
learned it word for word by much reading. When 
we heard of other women similai'ly bereaved, we 
loaned them the letter, until it was worn in pieces. 
Then we sewed it together; and then we made copies 
of it, and sent to our bereaved friends, and kejDt it 
in circulation until after the war ended. 

"John's death was a great loss to us. He was 
my only child, and was born after my husband's 
death, a blessing and a comfort from the day he saw 
the light. He had been engaged to be married for 
three years when the war came. He felt that he 
ought to enlist, but Anna and I could not listen to 
such a proposal, and we talked it down. At last he 
felt it was a duty for him to enter the service, and 



"ANNA NEVER GOT OVER IT." 615 

that he must go. We all three agreed to pray over 
it for a week, and to announce our decisions the next 
Sunday morning. When we came together at the 
end of a week, we had all decided that it was his 
duty to serve his country in the field. He enlisted 
in the Twelfth Michigan, under good officers, and 
the regiment was ordered South immediately. 

"Anna insisted that their marriage should take 
place before he left, that she might go down and 
nurse him if he got sick or was wounded. She 
accompanied him as far as Louisville, when she could 
go no farther, and was sent homeward. At John's 
request we made one family, and she was a true, 
loving daughter to me. For eighteen months no ill 
tidings were received from my son. He was always 
well, never was wounded, and the February before his 
death he came home on fourteen days' furlough. We 
had received only three letters from him after his re- 
turn, when your letter came, announcing his death. 

" Anna never got over it. She worked and kept 
busy, went to church and taught her class in the 
Sunday-school, but all the life had gone out of her. 
She used to be very gay, and full of frolic and fun, 
but she dropped down to a kind of mild sadness, and 
I never heard her voice ringing with laughter as in 
the old days. She fell into delicate health, and grew 
thinner and feebler as the years went by. Eight 
years ago she had gastric fever. After the fever was 
subdued, she didn't rally, but failed every day, becom- 
ing whiter and weaker, until I saw she must die. I 
tried hard to persuade her to live, for she was all I 
had, and I loved her for her own sake as well as John's. 

" One day, when I was bathing her, her wedding 
ring rolled off her finger, which had wasted to the 



616 "let me weak it till i die." 

bone, and it was some time before it could be found. 
I proposed to put it away for safe keeping. ' Ko,' 
said Anna, 'let me wear it till I die. KoU a bit of 
paper on the inside to make it fit my finger. And, 
mother, when I am gone, if you can learn where 
Mrs. Livermore lives, send the ring to her, and ask 
her to wear it for my sake and John's. Tell her it 
was my dying request.' 

"I live eight miles from here," said the worn 
woman. "And when I saw by the paper that you 
were going to lecture in Albion, I drove over to see 
and hear you. The ring has been cleansed this 
afternoon by a goldsmith, so that no taint of sickness 
or death clings to it. So please wear it, not only for 
the sake of John and Anna, but for my sake, for I 
shall probably never meet you again." And taking 
my hand, the widowed and childless mother slipped 
the ring on my finger, from which it has never since 
been taken. Bidding me " Good-bye," she seated 
herself in the cutter, and, gathering the reins in her 
hand, drove away in the moonlight, over the glitter- 
ing snow, to her desolate home, eight miles away. 

Affected as I was by the narrative, I am unable to 
recall a single circumstance of the event. But for 
the proof of my own letter I should be half tempted to 
believe the bereaved woman had confounded me with 
some other worker in the hospitals, so completely is 
all memory of the incident effaced from my mind. 

"do you remember the man who cried for 

milk?" 

When in Memphis, on one occasion during the 
war, I heard of an Officers' Hospital in a most piti- 
able condition. I went over to investigate it. Its 



THE OFFICEKS' HOSPITAL. 617 

wretchedness could not be exaggerated. Govern- 
ment made no provision for the care of officers when 
they were sick, beyond furnishing medicine and ad- 
vice. They were better paid than the privates, and 
were expected to provide themselves with the food 
and clothing demanded by their situation. But they 
received their pay at such irregular intervals that, 
not unfrequently, when they became victims of dis- 
ease, they suffered for the necessaries of hospital 
life, which were furnished freely to the rank and file. 

There were over a hundred officers in this dreary 
hospital, many of them gentlemen, and most of them 
men of intelligence and character. There was not a 
cot m the wards, nor even an aj)ology for a bed, nor 
was there an article of hospital clothing. There was 
an unusual dearth of everything at the Government 
Purveyor's — so that no remedy for the discomforts 
of the hospital could be expected from that quarter. 
A large shipment of hospital furniture, blankets, 
clothing and food was on its way to Memphis ; and 
when it arrived, I was informed that the Officers' 
Hospital would be properly fitted up and furnished. 

In the meantime, the men were lying in their uni- 
forms, on rubber blankets, or on the bare floor, with 
their knapsacks for pillows. All were too ill to sit 
up, and some were sick unto death. Some were 
accompanied by colored servants, ignorant of any 
knowledge save what was sufficient for the roughest 
work, and so stupid and shiftless as to be encum- 
brances rather then assistants. There were no 
nurses, not even convalescent soldiers. The poverty 
and desolation of the hospital were indescribable. 
The officers did not complain, but expressed satisfac- 
tion that the privates were better cared for than they. 



618 GRATITUDE OF THE OFFICERS. 

I applied to the Sanitary Commission in Memphis, 
whose shelves and drawers were crowded with cloth- 
ing, and where large rooms were packed to repletion 
with cots, tables, bedding, camp-stools, sanitary stores 
of all kinds, and delicacies. The Commission was 
not expected to provide for officers, even when they 
were in hospital — they were popularly believed to 
be able to care for themselves. ^Neither was it to 
allow such mitigable suffering as this to be un- 
cared for, and it moved immediately to the relief of 
the sick men. I was requested to make out the 
order for all that was necessary, and wagon-loads of 
cots, bedding, clothing, and whatever else was needed 
were immediately despatched, accompanied by relief 
agents. 

There was admirable promptness, and the work of 
the agents of the Commission was not remitted until 
every man was relieved of his uniform, bathed, 
dressed in hospital garments, and placed in a clean, 
sweet bed. A sick-diet kitchen was established, 
and four of the women nurses whom I had brought 
from Chicago were detailed to service in the wards 
of the hospital. The gratitude of the neglected and 
helpless officers was unbounded. They could only 
express their thanks in broken words and sobs. 

One morning, the surgeon informed me that all the 
patients with bowel difficulties might be allowed a 
specified quantity of milk three times a day — an 
order which I repeated to the men, as I knew they 
would welcome it with gratitude, as milk was the 
article of food they most craved. As I left the ward, 
I saw one of the officers, a major, bury his face in 
the pillow, and abandon himself to hysterical weep- 
ing. He had been very ill with pneumonia, through 



CRYING FOR MILK. G19 

which he had barely lived. His convalescence was 
slow, and his complete recovery depended on careful 
nursing and proper diet. 

I begged to know the cause of his grief. After 
much soothing and coaxing, I drew from him the 
reason of his tears. " I want milk too," he sobbed 
bitterly, "but I haven't had bowel trouble, only 
pneumonia! " And turning his face to the wall, he 
broke afresh into violent weeping. I hastened to 
the surgeon, and obtained an order for milk to be 
given patients convalescing from pneumonia, of which 
I informed the major without delay. It was with 
great difficulty I could stanch his tears, for he was 
so pitifully weak as to be beyond his own control. 

Two summers ago, I was at Fabyan's in the White 
Mountains. A tall, fine, military looking man sat 
opposite me at dinner. Like myself, he was at- 
tending the sessions of " The National Institute of 
Instruction." The essays and discussions of the 
morning formed the topic of conversation, in which 
all joined. In a lull of the talk, my vis-d-vis ad- 
dressed me personally. 

" Pardon me, madam — but were you in Memphis 
in April, 1863?" 

" I was." 

" Did you visit the Officers' Hospital at that time, 
and remain till it was made comfortable, and put on 
the footing of a first-class institution?" 

" I did." 

" Do you remember a major who nearly cried him- 
self to death because he wanted milk, which had 
been prescribed for some of the patients, but not for 
him, who was recovering from pneumonia?" 

" Very well, indeed, sir." 



620 "l AM THAT MAN." 

"Allow me to shake hands with you, madam. I 
am that man. I have always believed that I should 
have died but for the milk diet on which I was then 
placed. I want to thank you now for the good ser- 
vice you rendered me, as I have never before had an 
opportunity, and to tell you how ashamed I am when 
I remember my childishness." 

There was no occasion for shame, or a sense of 
humiliation. For persons of unbending will, and 
iron control, when in good health, break down into 
infantile weakness of mind — when surrounded by 
the tender care of home, and the ministrations of 
love — if the nerves lose their tone, or disease saps 
the body of its vigor. How much stronger the ten- 
dencies to despondency in a comfortless hospital, 
where one is left to battle with sickness, uncheered 
by affection! 

HOW GENERAL GRANT WAS CAPTURED. 

A second great sanitary fair was in progress in 
Chicago when the war ended. At no time were the 
wants of the soldiers more pressing than then; 
while the Chicago Soldiers' Home, established for 
the permanently disabled and indigent soldiers of 
Illinois, Avas in suffering need of funds. The profits 
of the fair were to be divided between the Home and 
the Commission — and again the Northwest bent its 
energies to the successful management of a sanitary 
fair. 

The " boys in blue," returning home from service, 
dropped into the fair continually. Sometimes they 
came singly, sometimes in companies, and sometimes 
regiments were received, with pomp and ceremony. 
To all officers of the army there was accorded a 



GRAJ^T ENTHUSIASTICALLY RECEIVED. 621 

hearty welcome, while the emment generals, to 
whose leadershijD the country owes the presei-vation 
of the government and the restoration of peace, 
were received with ovations. 

To General Grant a reception was accorded un- 
equalled in the history of the ISTorthwest. A vast 
crowd awaited his arrival at the railroad station, and 
it was with great difficulty that the mounted aids 
could make a way foi* him to the fair through the 
cheering throngs. Inside the bazar, the aid of the 
police was necessary to enable him to reach the plat- 
form. When the bands played " Hail to the Chief," 
and " The Red, White, and Blue," ten thousand 
voices sang the words, drowning the instruments. 
Amid the wildest enthusiasm, he was presented to 
the peojDle, who received him with tremendous ap- 
plause, cheer upon cheer, that did not subside for 
some moments. Addresses were made by generals 
and governors, poems were read, written for the 
occasion, and there were music and cheering ad libi- 
tum — but both General and Mrs. Grant were im- 
prisoned on the platform. They were unable to visit 
the various departments, to accept the courtesies 
offered them, nor could they reach the hall where an 
elegant lunch was awaiting them. 

The next day General Grant visited the fair again, 
accompanied by his wife, and executed the greatest 
manoeuvre of his life. He made a flank movement 
on the people of Chicago, and visited the bazar in 
the early morning, when only those were present who 
were putting the great fancy ware-rooms in order for 
the day. He had nearly completed the tour of the 
several departments, both Mrs. Grant and himself 
had received many handsome gifts prepared espe- 



622 GRANT CAPTURED BY YOUNG LADIES. 

cially for them, when the clock struck ten, — the 
hour for the arrival of the young ladies who were to 
serve for the day. A volunteer staff of tliem imme- 
diately surrounded the General. He was captured. 
They accompanied him from booth to booth, and 
from gallery to gallery, until several hundred of the 
loveliest girls of the city were in his retinue. 

They whisperingly appealed to me, again and 
again, for permission to kiss the great man, as 
modest and shy as he was famed, until at last I said 
to him, — 

" General Grant, these girls are very desirous to 
kiss you, but they have not the courage to propose it 
themselves." 

" Well," said the gallant General, turning towards 
them, " if they want to kiss me I do not see what 
there is to hinder. I have been here three days and 
nobody has kissed me yet but my wife." 

Instantly, dozens of charming fairies pounced upon 
him. He attempted to retreat, but it was in vain. 
He tried to break through the rosy ranks, but with- 
out success. For the first time he confessed himself 
vanquished, and calmly awaited events. The truth 
must be told — he gave kiss for kiss. l!^ever was 
such a man subjected to such an ordeal. On came 
the maidens, singly, or in file, or by squads. They 
kissed him on the forehead, they kissed him on the 
nose, they kissed him on the cheek, chin, or neck. 
There must have been dozens of kisses lying around 
loose at the close of this attack, hidden in the Gen- 
eral's whiskers. All the while the hero of a hundred 
battle-fields blushed until his face was crimson. 

" Well," said he at the close, " that beats Yicks- 
burg all out of sight ! " 



SALUTED EVERYWHERE. . 623 

It tested the General's courage severely during 
that visit to show himself anywhere. His appear- 
ance on the street was the signal for a furor. A 
surging sea of humanity set toward him from every 
point, until the streets were blocked and business 
interfered with. On the following Sunday he at- 
tended the Methodist church on Indiana Avenue. 
When the service was concluded, the audience filed 
down one aisle and up the other to grasp the hand 
of their hero. After streams of people had flowed 
along for three-quarters of an hour, until it seemed 
as if half a dozen congregations must have ex- 
hausted themselves, it was found that the worship- 
pers of neighboring churches were filing in, and it 
became necessary to close the church doors. 

THE WISCONSm^ WAR EAGLE. 

The story of " Old Abe," the Wisconsin war eagle, 
has been frequently told. The eagle was taken from 
his nest by an Indian in upper Wisconsin in the 
summer of 1861. Having been sold by his captor, 
he was finally presented to Company C, Eighth Wis- 
consin. A standard was made for him, and he was 
carried beside the regimental flag. For three years 
he was in all the marches of the regiment, taking 
part in twenty-two battles and thirty skirmishes, and 
was wounded in three of them. 

When the regiment was engaged in battle, " Old 
Abe" manifested delight. At such a time, he would 
always be found in his proper place, at the head of 
Company C. When enveloped in the smoke of 
battle, he spread his pinions, jumped up and down 
on his perch, uttering such wild and fearful screams 
as only an eagle can. The fiercer and louder the 



624 INTELLIGENCE OF THE EAGLE. 

storm of battle, the fiercer and louder his screams. 
He seemed always to understand army movements, 
such as dress parade, and preparation for the march. 
Before he had been a year in the service, he would 
give heed directly to "Attention! Battalion!" With 
his head obliquely to the front, his right eye turned 
upon the commander, he would listen and obey 
orders, noting time carefully. After parade had 
been dismissed, and the ranks were being closed by 
the sergeant, he Avould lay aside his soldierly manner, 
flap his wings, loll about, and make himself at home 
generally. 

"When there was an order to form for battle, he 
and the colors were the first upon the line. His 
actions upon those occasions were uneasy. He 
would turn his head anxiously from right to left, 
looking to see when the line was completed. As 
soon as the regiment got ready, faced, and began to 
march, he would assume a steady and quiet de- 
meanor. He could always be seen a little above the 
heads of the soldiers, close by the flag. That posi- 
tion of honor was never disallowed him. 

At the battle of Farmington, May 9, 1862, the 
men were ordered to lie down on the ground. The 
instant they did so, '• Old Abe " flew from his perch. 
He insisted on being protected as well as they, and 
flattened himself on the ground, remaining there 
until the men rose, when, with outspread wings, he 
flew back to his place of peril, and held it until the 
close of the contest. At the battle of Corinth the 
rebel general Price discovered him, and ordered his 
men to take him if they could not kill him, adding 
that " he would rather capture that bird than the 
whole brigade." The bird was never so excited as 




FAMOUS UNION BATTLE-FLAGS. 

" Old Abe " War F.a<Jlp oi the 8t]i VV,«. HeQl . 1. Nmtl. la^va Hept 2. Se«i.icl Kaiisas BallorT 
:VSeconcl W.s.Rc^t". 4. Si-xenth Mo.R~eg'i. 5. Set.ond Kansas ReOt K Fust Ohio Hatlerv' 
Fnr JJescrifjti/>}lS see pagCfi .^-f^'f)''- 
PHOTOGRAPHED AND PAINTED FROM THE ORIGINAL FLAGS EXPRESSLY FOR THIS WORK 

A.O WORTHINGTON & CO PUBLSmERS, HAR-rrORO CONN. 



"ARMY OF THE AMERICAN EAGLE." (327 

during that battle. Flying from his perch to the 
length of his chain, flapping his wings, with wide- 
open mouth, his screams could be heard in every 
lull of the battle. 

Mr. Sewell, a Chicago publisher, devised a very 
original mode of raising money for the sanitary fair, 
in connection with this war eagle. Pictures of the 
bird were struck off, and offered for sale. A child 
that sold one of these pictures for ten cents was to 
be considered a private in the " Army of the Ameri- 
can Eagle." One who sold a dollar's worth was to 
be commissioned as corporal. Fiv*e dollars made one 
first lieutenant; ten dollars conferred the rank of 
captain; fifty dollars made a lieutenant-colonel; a 
hundred dollars a colonel; two hundred dollars brig- 
adier-general; four hundred dollars made a child 
major-general. The plan took with the children, 
who were charmed with the ingenious device. All 
over the country the little folks sold pictures of 
" Old Abe " — from Maine to Oregon, from upper 
Minnesota and Lake Superior to points far south 
which the soldiers had wrested from the enemy. 

More than twelve thousand letters were received 
from boys and girls, which were carefully filed in 
alphabetical order. The net profits of the chil- 
dren's " Army of the American Eagle " footed up 
sixteen thousand three hundred and eight dollars 
and ninety-three cents. It was all paid over to the 
treasury, and cost the fair not one cent for expense. 
It was more than was paid in by any other depart- 
ment; and all was obtained from the efforts of 
-children. Gold, silver, and bronze medals were 
presented to the children by Mr. Sewell, through 
General Sherman, in the fair building, one day near 

38 



628 THE WAR EAGLE VISITS BOSTON. 

its close, with all the pomp of speeches, music, hur- 
rahs, and waving of handkerchiefs and flags. 

At the close of the war "Old Abe" became the 
pensioner of the state, and a room was appointed him 
in the State House, at Madison, Wis. An appropri- 
ation was made for his care, and for the salary of his 
attendant, who took great pride in the warlike bird, 
between whom and himself there sprang up an affec- 
tion that lasted during " Old Abe's " life. In charge 
of this attendant, the eagle visited soldiers' re-unions, 
became an object of interest and profit at Grand Army 
fairs, was borne in procession at the dedication of 
soldiers' monuments, and figured at the consecration 
of memorial halls. One of these occasions brought 
him to Boston, where he excited unusual interest. 
He held immense receptions in the " Old South 
Meeting-house," where children, as well as adults, 
paid him court, all eager to see the imperial bird, 
which had been through the fire of scores of battles, 
sharing their excitement and danger with the men. 
So great was the interest his visit awakened, that 
Mrs. Hemmenway, the eminent woman philanthro- 
pist of the city, who has assisted in the preservation 
of the " Old South " as a historic museum, commis- 
sioned an artist to paint " Old Abe's " portrait, which 
hangs on the walls, with other pictures of historic 
worth. 



CHAPTER XXXIY. 

SOLDIERS' LETTERS FROM THE FRONT DURING THE FIRST 
YEAR OF THE WAR — VIVID PICTURES OF LIFE IN CAMP 

— DESOLATION — AMUSEMENTS — MARCHING — FORAGING 

— PICKET DUTY — LETTERS FROM HOME. 

Authors of the Letters — Life in Camp — Exploits of tlie First Iowa — "A 
bully Boy" — Hardships of a Chaplain — Fight at Conrad's Ferry — 
The Desolation of War — Impatient to be led into Action — "Little 
Mack" — President's Reception — The Picture of Weariness and De- 
spair — Amusements — Morals — Without the Comforts of Civilization 

— Secession Literature — Hutchinsons sing in Camp — Soldiers wild 
with Delight — Dying from Camp Diseases — The poor Horses — Depres- 
sion of the Men — Picturesque Scenes — Breaking up Camp, and starting 
off — Going into Camp for the Night — Foraging — Difficulty of Moving 
a large Army — Longing for Letters from Home — Their blessed Influ- 
ence — " The musty Crackers and rusty Bacon are better" — Fatigues of 
Picket Duty — In Pursuit of Something to eat — "Somebody had been 
flying Chickens" — Battle of Pea Ridge — As good as Dead the last 
half of the Battle. 

^^URI^G the war I maintained an extensive 
coiTespondence with soldiers in the field 
and hospital, and with oflScers, chaplains, 
and nurses. They were mostly personal 
acquaintances — men from my own neighbor- 
hood; church and Sunday-school associates; 
sometimes intimate friends and relatives. In every 
instance they were men of a high order, well edu- 
cated, of a lofty moral character, and who entered 
the service from devotion to the imperilled country. 
They gave up lucrative positions, withdrew from 
their studies in colleges or professional schools, and 
all left homes of refinement wiiere they were beloved 

629 




630 LETTERS FROM SOLDIERS. 

and trusted, and where their absence created a sad- 
ness, which in some instances was deepened by their 
death. 

I have selected from these epistles some of the 
most interesting, for the conclusion of this volume. 
They present phases of life during the war that can 
be reached in no other way. They give the reader a 
glimpse of the nobleness of the American soldier, 
who, trained to the arts of peace, entered into "the 
hideous business called Avar " at the behest of duty, 
but gladly renounced it for the life of the civilian 
when the bells rang in the joyful tidings of "peace." 
I doubt if a collection of letters as intelligent and 
interesting could be gathered from the correspond- 
ence of the soldiery of any other nation in the world! 
I doubt if the general wholesomeness of inner army 
life, of which one gets hints in these epistles, could 
be excelled by that of any army ever mustered for 
battle! I doubt if the American soldiers, the sub- 
ordinates and privates, were not almost phenomenal 
in their versatility, patriotism, intelligence, and heroic 
patience! My interest in them was absorbing during 
the war; my admiration of and piide in them is limit- 
less since the war ended. 

And I never meet the poorest and most desolate of 
the rank and file in the hospitals and Soldiers' Homes 
in which the country is sheltering them, that I do not 
realize anew that the nation owes the soldiers of the 
last war a debt which it never can pay — a gratitude 
which it should be proud to manifest. 

If the soldiers of the Revolutionary War defended 
the right of the infant republic to life, and beat back 
the monarchists that Avould have strangled it in its 
cradle, the soldiers of the last war saved it from 



LAST SAVIORS OF THE REPUBLIC. 631 

assassination at the liands of its own children, and 
cut out by their swords the cancerous evil which was 
poisoning its whole system and eating away its life. 
All honor, then, to these last saviors of the republic! 

LIFE IN THE CAMP. 

EoLLA, Mo., Nov. 23, 1861. 

You remember our regiment left Aurora, 111., on 
the 24th of September. We have buried two men 
since we left, although we have had very little sick- 
ness. Our commander is General Greusel, an old 
schoolmate of General Sigel, an officer whom the 
regiment almost idolizes. Where he leads, the Thir- 
ty-sixth Illinois will follow. 

We were paid yesterday, and are now well j^ro- 
vided with clothes, having two suits throughout, an 
overcoat, a good oil-cloth blanket, and the best of 
tents. For all these comforts we are indebted to the 
untiring energy and perseverance of our officers. 
We are making quite a reputation as foragers. On 
the 1st of l^ovember, the colonel, with two compa- 
nies of infantry and two of cavalry, scoured the 
country for fifty miles round, bringing in a large 
amount of stock — horses, mules, cattle, sheep, and 
wagons. Among the prisoners are a rebel colonel 
and captain. They also cajDtured a drum and flag. 
The drum is a queer thing. It consists of a hollow 
log about three feet long, the ends covered with 
sheepskin. The flag is a piece of white cloth, on 
which is painted a map of the seceded states. It is 
a wonderful specimen of Southern ingenuity. 

The First Iowa regiment has joined us. It per- 
formed various feats, while coming through Missouri, 
which profoundly disgusted the secessionists. At 



632 " OUR WHOLE UN^ION." 

Renick the men captured a rebel flag, and ran up the 
stars and stripes on the same pole. A painter in one 
of the companies climbed up to the hotel sign in the 
night, and transformed it from " Yancy House " to 
"Union House." At Macon they took possession of 
the office of the Register, a hot secession sheet. There 
are no less than forty printers in the regiment; and 
before they left the office they had set up, jjrinted, 
and issued, in its place, a spicy loyal little journal, 
called " Our Whole Union." When they arrived at 
Booneville, they entered the office of the Patriot, 
took the place of the editors and compositors, whose 
secession sentiments had rendered them very unpop- 
ular at Booneville, and promptly issued a loyal paper 
in its stead. 

Our chaplain is a capital fellow. The boys call him 
" a bully boy," which, you know, is their highest 
praise. On a wearisome march that we made last 
week, he constantly rode along the line, encouraging 
the boys with his hearty, cheering laugh. You can 
have no idea how the men pick up strength after the 
chaplain speaks to them. He gives us capital ser- 
mons, and is very popular, because his discourses 
never exceed fifteen minutes in length; and as to 
prayers, there is but one to a service, and that is 
brief. He is as good a friend to Tom and Dick and 
Harry, even when he catches them swearing, as he is 
to an epauletted officer. 

We have regular services every Sabbath. The 
colonel is very strict about our attending Sabbath 
service; and all must be there who are not on the 
sick list, or they must go to the guard-house. Re- 
ligion is compulsory in this regiment. He is very 
thoughtful about the morals of the men, and so is the 



THE RIGHT SORT OF CHAPLAIN. 633 

chaplain, neither of whom is a man of the preaching 
sort. But, nevertheless, there will be ' j)rofanity and 
other vices. We are expecting a forward movement 
very soon. For several nights the guards have been 
doubled, and the men have slept on their arms, ready 
to start at a moment's warning. At any moment of 
the day or night our regiment may receive marching 
orders to start in an hour. We shall be only too glad 
to go. Yours truly, s. P. S. 

HARDSHIPS OF A CHAPLAIN's LIFE. 

Alexandria, Va., Nov. 30, 1861. 

You seem to think that a chaplain's life must be an 
easy one. I grant you it may be if a chaplain shirks 
his duty. But if he is ready to share the perils of 
the soldier, a chaplain will find his life full of hard- 
ships and exposure. I acknowledge my letters are 
" light and trifling," as you characterize them ; but 
have you not heard of the boy who whistled to keep 
up his courage? Let me give you a few facts con- 
cerning my life. 

I have slept in the open air, with scarcely any cov- 
ering, so chilled in the morning as to rise with great 
difficulty. I have slept in a government wagon, with 
hungry mules foraging around, and snatching the 
hay which formed my bed. I have slept with crick- 
ets, bugs, spiders, centipedes, and snakes crawling 
about my couch as thick as princes in Germany. 
For one week I had no food but salt pork, which I 
detest, and bread which water could not soften. 
Since I have been in camp, I have not been comfort- 
able the whole of one night, because of cold. I have 
no abiding-place, nor has the rest of the army. I 
must be ready to march, rain or shine. Yery differ- 



634 TRY IT AT HOME. 

ent this from my life at Hudson, K. Y., where I had 
my books, my study, and home. 

Tell H [a country clergyman] that he need 

not come here to see if he likes it, for he can make 
a few experiments at home. Let him sleep on the 
floor of the attic a few nights without a pillow or com- 
forter, or in the garden, wrapped in a pair of horse 
blankets. Let him get a pound or two of the rustiest 
pork he can buy and some mouldy crackers, and feed 
on them for a week. Or let him treat himself to a 
couple of salt herrings, and drink his black coffee 
without milk or sugar. These will be good prepara- 
tory steps before his enlistment. After he has 
enlisted, tell him he must make up his mind to be a 
man among men, cheerful, brave, blameless. He 
must point out the road, and he must also lead the 
way. Like Cromwell, he must trust in God, and keep 
his powder dry. 

Dec. 3. — AYe have just had a battle, that took 
place at Conrad's Ferry, which resulted disastrously 
to our troops. A narrow river separated my men, 
with myself, from the battle-field; and, as we had no 
means of crossing the deep, swift stream, we could 
render our companions no assistance. I remained 
with my comrades during the night, assisting the 
wounded, and rendering all possible aid to the fugi- 
tives. At the conclusion of the fight, our brave 
fellows were ordered to save themselves as they best 
could. Many plunged into the water, and swam to 
an island in the river, and were afterwards conveyed 
to the Maryland shore. Many of them were nearly 
naked. All were cold and shivering. I assisted 
them to the extent of my ability ; and not only en- 
couraged the men, but literally drove them to walk 



"slaughtered like sheep." 635 

to camp without delay. I feared otherwise they 
would freeze to death. 

About raiduight the fugitives ceased to arrive, and 
I sought for rest in a shock of corn beyond the canal. 
I had scarcely fallen asleep when I was aroused by 
heavy firing of musketry on the Virginia side of the 
river. I hastened to the shore, and learned that 
about four hundred of our soldiers had hidden them- 
selves in the early part of the evening, and had just 
been discovered. They were slaughtered like sheep. 
Those that could swim, rushed to the river. Many 
were drowned. The remainder were butchered on 
the spot, or made prisoners. 

I shall never forget what I saw and heard that 
night on the banks of the Potomac. It was one of 
the most dreadful nights of my life. I have passsd 
many that were sorrowful. I have watched and 
waited calmly for death amid the chilling blasts of 
the ]N^orth and the fearful tornadoes of the torrid 
zone. I have kept vigil by the bedside of those 
dear to me as drops of my heart's blood, and have 
felt that the light had gone out of my life, when the 
sunrise saw me sitting by my dead. But I have 
never endured so much of agony and of horror as 
during that night, when I saw men butchered by the 
hundreds' in cold blood, simply because they wore a 
different uniform from their murderers. 

Yours truly, G. c. 

THE DESOLATION OF WAR THE PRESIDENT'S 

RECEPTION. 

Fortress Monroe, Va., Dec, 23, 1861. 

I take it for granted that you, and all my other 
friends at home, are desirous to hear from me; so I 



636 "came to fight for our country." 

write as frequently as possible, and am only too 
thankful if my hastily scrawled epistles keep me in 
affectionate remembrance, and evoke a reply. The 
Twentieth Indiana is stationed at Fortress Monroe, 
perfecting itself in drill, and impatient to be led into 
action. The prospect of going into winter quai'ters 
is very distasteful to us. " We didn't come here to 
drill and camp, and become veteran soldiers," say 
the boys. " We came here to fight for our country, 
and why are we not led into action?" There is a 
good deal of grumbling over this "masterly inac- 
tivity," and the boys are singing much less of the 
doggerel in praise of McClellan than we heard some 
few weeks ago. 

" For little Mack, 
He took the track, 
And swore to beat the rebels back ! 
Whoop ! Whack ! 
Hurrah ! for little Mack ! " 

This has rung through the regiment day after day, 
until I have almost wished " little Mack " had never 
been born. We feel the cold weather, and do not 
perceive much difference between the climate of Vir- 
ginia and Indiana. The boys have invented all sorts 
of contrivances for warming their tents, some of 
which would make you smile. Some answer their 
purpose, and some are a plague to the inventors. 
There is one excellent quality in the army. What- 
ever may be the discomforts of the men, or their 
hardships, they do not complain, but pass it over 
with fun and jokes. With a good deal of unem- 
ployed time on their hands, and with little to read, 
and nothing in the way of diversion, they take to 
fun in a wholesale way. This is better than grumb- 



DESOLATION OF WAR. 637 

ling or desponding, bnt we all feel it would be better 
if we could have full and absorbing employment; 
such, for instance, as driving the " secesh " down into 
the Gulf, whose drums we hear within two or three 
miles of us. 

The desolation of war can only be understood by 
those who behold the country around us despoiled 
of its grand forests, centuries old. The earth is cast 
up into fortifications, and trodden into dust by the 
continuous tramp of three hundred thousand men. 
.The burned village of Hampton, just before us, looks 
desolate enough. I was over there a few days ago, 
and brought away as mementoes a fragment of a 
tombstone bearing date 1701, and recording the 
death of a man one hundred and twenty-eight years 
old, and a lump of the melted bell of Hampton church, 
which was wantonly burned by the rebels. It was 
more than two centuries old, and was brought to this 
country from England. 

I was sent to Washington with despatches a few 
days ago; and as I had to stay the night that I might 
take back answers, I began to look about for diver- 
sion. I learned that the President held a levee that 
evening, and with five other officers I decided to 
attend it. So, brushing up hats, coats and hair, we 
started for the White House. 'No white kids graced 
our hands, but we thought we had as good a right 
to see the great " rail-splitter " as anybody. We 
worked our way to the reception room, through 
billows of silks and satins, through clouds of lace 
and feathers, amid spangles and jewelry, epaulets 
and swords, brass buttons and spurs. The scene 
was very brilliant, and so was Mrs. Lincoln, the wife 
of the President. She was all smiles, and decked 



(338 PITY POR THE PRESIDENT 

out in the most fantastic style. But my heart ached 
for the poor President. He looked the very picture 
of weariness and despair. While standing listening 
to the " Hutchinson family," singing patriotic songs, 
he twice closed his eyes, and partially went to sleep 
with all that effervescing crowd of office-hunters, 
contract-seekers, and pleasure-lovers about him. If 
President Lincoln does not live out his term of office, 
I, for one, shall not be surprised. I sincerely pity 
him. 

As to any news, you have it and we are wholly in 
the dark; so I shall not undertake to tell you any- 
thing. They are making sixteen thousand minie- 
balls at the Washington ^avy Yard, every ten hours. 
That looks as if this inactivity of the army would 
end before long. I Avas very glad to receive your 
papers and books. They have been read all in 
pieces. Any donations of that kind will never come 
amiss. Yours truly, e. g. 

AMUSEMENTS — MORALS — SECESSION LITERATURE. 

RoLLA, Mo., Jan. 3, 1862. 

The holidays are over, and the soldiers are again 
going through the regular routine of camp life. 
About three thousand cavalry have gone in search 
of the much-desired General Pi-ice, and I hope they 
will not return Price-Ze55. To-day our mules and 
wagons have arrived, and the boys have been having 
sport breaking the wild mules. The whole ground 
is covered with a sheet of ice and sleet. 

Our amusements are various. Ball-playing, pitch- 
ing quoits, playing dominos and euchre, washing, 
ironing, cooking, sweeping the street, and last, but 
not least, writing letters. The fact that a man 



MORALS OF THE SOLDIERS. G39 

belongs to the army, entitles him, we think, to write 
to any one, so that we are constantly soliciting cor- 
respondence, nor do we fail very largely of our 
object. 

I wish I could give you a description of the coun- 
try and of the people here. For miles around the 
country is dotted with the camptires of the poor 
refugees, driven from their homes by the disloyal 
bushwhackers. It is a pitiable sight to see these 
people, destitute of nearly every comfort of civiliza- 
tion. Hardly one of them has a stove, or other 
shelter from the driving storm except a small tent. 
The children are barefooted, and their pinched faces 
plainly indicate their suffering and starving condi- 
tion. On an average, I do not find one in fifteen, 
among either adults or children, who can read or 
write. It is a timber country where we are en- 
camped. The wood is so crooked and knotty that, 
when cut and burned, it will not make straight 
ashes. The hogs are so thin that they are not dis- 
cernible to the vision except when viewed by the 
left flank (side in front) ; and the most of the people 
in this vicinity have never seen either church or 
school-house. 

The morals of the soldiers are much better than 
could be expected. Only one man has been intoxi- 
cated in our company, which is really remarkable 
considering the enticement to drunkenness. In the 
Fourth Iowa camp, near us, there is a regularly 
established Good Templars' Lodge, that holds weekly 
meetings. I hope to attend one of them next week, 
and will write you if there is anything interesting to 
tell. Profanity is very common. It is really a sur- 
prise to me, accustomed to it, to hear how easily and 



640 COPY OF A REBEL RECRUITING BILL. 

with what originaUty the men swear. Our chaplahi 
does all in his power, with his mighty persuasion, his 
never-failing good humor, and his abounding kindli- 
ness, to suppress this and every other vice. 

Barracks are certainly injurious to the soldiers. 
The Iowa Fourth have substantial log barracks; and 
ever since they left their tents and went into them, 
they have had sickness, one man dying a day on an 
average. In December they buried thirty men. I 
attribute much of their sickness to the fact that their 
camp-ground is in a former burying-ground. This 
certainly must have something to do with it. Would 
you like to see one of the recruiting bills of Price's 
army? Here is a copy of one: — 

Soldiers Wanted 

In 1th, 6, 7, & 9 Military Districts immediately now is the 

time to come and join General Price on his march Northeast to 

drive the abolition hordes from our land your brethren are at 

work and call for help 

By order of maj general price 

(His signature) 

Then rally men rally men, around tlie flag unferld 

The gallent deeds of Southern men are ringing through the world 

Fall into the Southern ranks form one united band 

And we'll drive Abe Lincoln's annys forever from our land. 

This is a vei^latiin et literatim et spellatim copy of 
a bill stuck up in the land of " secesh." As it is late 
and I am sleepy, I bid you good night. 

Yours truly, s. p. s. 

HUTCHINSONS SmG EN" CAMP SICKNESS OF THE MEN. 

Fairfax Coubt-House, Va., Jan. 18, 1862. 

We have been highly favored lately with concerts 
given by the "Hutchinson Family." The last one 



POWER OF SONG. 641 

was given in the chapel of Fairfax Seminary. This 
was occupied before the war by the Episcopal Theo- 
logical Institute. The buildings are very substantial 
and beautiful, and of brick, all of which were left 
with their furniture. The college is used for a hos- 
pital. The boarding-houses, and the dwellings of 
the principals and pi'ofessors are occupied by the 
chaplain and surgeon of our regiment, — the First 
'New Jersey, — and by other officers. We have the 
use of the chapel for meetings, lectures, and concerts. 
Colonel Farnsworth's Illinois Cavalry is encamped 
within two miles of us, and the men came up en 
masse to attend the concert. It was very interesting 
to see with what zest the soldiers crowded around 
and within the chapel, and how wild they were with 
delight when some song was sung which met their 
approbation. There were probably from twenty-five 
hundred to three thousand jammed into or packed 
around the chapel. When the Hutchinsons sang 
" Rt>ck me to sleep, mother," " Do they miss me at 
home," and other songs which called up recollections 
of happy days, and of parents and friends, the poor 
fellows wept, and seemed not to care who saw 
them. 

We are exceedingly tired of the monotonous life 
we are leading, and of this do-nothing policy. We 
are willing to go into the jaws of death rather than 
remain where we are. A scouting party of some two 
or three hundred cavalry, made up in part of Colonel 
Farnsworth's and in part from another Illinois regi- 
ment near by, commanded just now by Major Bever- 
age, has just started ofi" in high glee. There had 
been a strife all the morning, often rising into angry 
and bitter words, among the men, as to who should 



642 TIRED OF THIS LAZY LIFE. 

have the privilege of going off on this dangerous 
trip. I had hoped to go, for I am as tired as any one 
of this lazy life. But the lot did not fall on me. 
We are dying faster from the sicknesses of camp 
than from the casualties of war. N^early all the men 
have bad colds, so that sometimes during a concert 
the coughing fairly dr,owns the music. Why should 
the men not take cold? Many of them lie on the 
damp ground, with only a blanket under them. Over 
one hundred and thirty are in the hospital from 
Colonel Farnsworth's regiment alone. They have 
buried several men lately; and where the rebels kill 
one, disease slays ten. 

The poor horses look sorry enough, I tell you. 
They are tied to long poles placed in crotches set in 
the ground, and extended ten to fifteen rods. On 
each side are tied the animals. They have no floor 
or shelter, and are in soft mud six to eight inches 
deep. An order has just been issued that if any of 
us poor fellows, standing guard in the wind or storm,, 
wet or cold, tramping through mud and water, drop 
asleep through fatigue or exhaustion, we are to be 
shot. Per contra, let a notorious traitor be taken, 
who has killed and destroyed everything within his 
reach, and who would murder every loyal man in the 
Union if he could, and all he has to do is to take the 
oath, and he is let off. Will you tell me where is 
the justice of this? Yours truly, t. g. a. 

PICTUKESQUE SCENES — FORAGING. 

Lebanon, Mo., Jan. 26, 1862. 

Since my last, we have met with some changes. 
We broke camp at Rolla, and marched three days to- 
this location. On the way, we passed a storehouse,, 



*'lack of everythixg here." 643 

in which two thousand barrels of pork and other 
supplies were stored, intended for Price's army. As 
we do not intend that he shall visit this locality 
again, it was loaded on our wagons, and sent ahead, 
for safe keepiug. 

At the end of three days we ran short " of provis- 
ions, and began to be hungry for the despised hard- 
tack which we threw away at Rolla. General 
Osterhaus, our acting general, did all in his power 
to protect the hogs and cattle in the way of the 
moving column. But the boys made a good use of 
powder and ball, and in some measure supplied our 
lack of rations. In wonder and amazement I cry, for 
what purpose was this desolate, unbounded Missouri 
wilderness created? After travelling four days, we 
have seen but four houses; and during our sojourn 
of four months in Missouri we have seen neither 
church nor school-house. There is a lack of every- 
thing here. YesteVday, Sunday, Captain Joslyn sent 
eight privates and myself in search of meat. We 
hunted faithfully all day, and at night had found but 
twelve hogs for a company of eighty men. We shall 
remember this Sunday for a long time. 

Jan. 28. — We broke up camp before daybreak 
on the 22nd, and were on the road long before 
sunrise. It is a picturesque scene, this breaking up 
camp and starting off, and worth an artist's trouble 
to sketch. At the roll of the drum, we take down 
our tents, and load them on the wagons. At the 
second roll we fall into the ranks ; then we are ready 
to march. The smouldering campfires, the hurrying 
to and fro of the men, the loud word of command, 
the howl of the teamsters as they get the mules 
into line, the roll of the drum, and the general bustle 

39 



OtlrJ: " WE FIRED, AND PIGGY RAN." 

and stir, combine to make the occasion lively and 
interesting. 

That afternoon, at one o'clock, we went into camp. 
We had marched twelve miles. The moment we 
halt for the night, we stack arms, unsling knapsacks, 
and break ranks. Then the boys scatter in every 
direction to get wood, straw, leaves, water, and any- 
thing else they can find, with which to make them- 
selves comfortable through the night. By the time 
we get things ready, our teams have arrived, and we 
take our tents, pitch them, and make coffee the first 
thing. This and hard crackers have constituted our 
supper lately. Still we will not grumble or whine. 
The next day we marched to Lebanon, where we are 
now in camp. 

We were told this morning that we should be 
short of meat for the next nine days. Accordingly, 
two of the boys, with myself, got permission to go 
foraging. We were not allowe(f to take our mus- 
kets out of cam^D, and so we took revolvers. After 
travelling a mile, we overtook a fine large hog. We 
fired at him — piggy I'an. We fired again — he ran 
again; and so it continued, until we had put twelve 
balls into this four-footed object of our desire. We 
skinned the animal, and carried it back in triumph 
into camp. 

We found another treasure. We passed an old 
storehouse half full of tobacco. You should have 
seen the way the boys pounced on it. They have 
been for some days in much need of this filthy weed; 
and the way they seized it would have done honor 
to a " half-famished ISTumidian lion " seizing sheep. 
The only place we have passed untouched, and from 
which we have not levied contributions on our 



"rebels even have deserted us." 645 

march, has been a graveyard. The boys did not 

even take a slab from that. Postage stamps are 

eight and a third cents apiece, or three for two bits. 

I wish you could enclose a few when writing me; 

for the paymaster visits us but rarely. To-night I 

go on picket duty, and will not protract my letter. 

Yours truly, s. p. s. 

I 

DIFFICULTY OF MOVING A LARGE ARMY LONGING 

FOR LETTERS FROM HOME. 

Headquarters, Fortress Monroe, Va., Feb. 3, 1862. 

Quietness reigns stipreme here at present, and I 
doubt if I shall be able to write you even one inter- 
esting page. The weather for some days past has 
been rainy, and in consequence we have had no 
drills. We are so near " Dixie " that snow seldom 
reaches us, and never in quantities to be anything 
but a vexation. Even our enemies seem to have left 
us to amuse ourselves as best we can. Picket, or 
grand guard duty is the only diversion from lazing 
in camp these dull, rainy days, and, as the rebels 
have deserted us, even that is getting uninteresting. 
Tame as it is getting to be, it must be attended to, 
as the safety of the entire army depends upon the 
grand guard. 

The people at home have very imperfect ideas of 
the difficulty of moving a large army. Almost every 
paper that we receive from the IS^orth criticises our 
generals for not exhibiting more energy in sur- 
mounting- the obstacles that retard the movement 
of large bodies of infantry and artillery, with their 
army wagons, ambulances, cattle herds, and materi- 
als for the building of roads and bridges. They do 
not understand that an army train, upon the most 



646 A^ IMMENSE APE AIR. 

limited allowance compatible with freedom of opera- 
tions, for a few days, away from its depots, is an 
immense affair. Under the existing allowances in 
the Army of the Potomac, says Lieutenant-Colonel 
Tolles, a corps of thirty thousand infantry has about 
seven hundred wagons, drawn by four thousand two 
hundred mules. The horses of officers and of the 
artillery wdll bring the number of animals to be pro- 
vided for up to about seven thousand. 

" On the march, it is calculated that each wagon 
will occupy about eighty feet, in bad roads much 
more. Consequently, a train of seven hundred 
wagons will cover fifty-six thousand feet of road, 
or over ten miles. The ambulances of a corps will 
occupy about a mile, and the batteries about three 
miles. Thirty thousand troops need six miles to 
march in, if they form but one column. The total 
length of the marching column of a corjDS of thirty 
thousand men is, therefore, twenty miles, even with- 
out including cattle herds and trains of bridge 
material." 

In addition to Colonel Tolles' statement, tr}^ to 
imagine the villanous roads and soil of this country, 
its unbridged streams, its forests, and its lack of 
railroads. Then I'emember that in a forward move- 
ment not one army corps of thirty thousand men is 
moved, but four, six, eight, or ten, according to the 
magnitude of the proposed operations, and tell me if 
the grumblers of the papers ought not to have an 
occasional spasm of sense and — silence. 

We do not get letters enough. Do the folks at 
home write and do the letters miscarry? or do they 
forget us? You can have no idea what a blessing 
letters from home are to the men in camp. They 



"we don't get letters enough." 647 

make us better men, better soldiers. We get the 
blues sometimes, and feel like going to the dogs. 
We are sometimes worn out with duty, wet, and 
muddy. The coffee is bad, the crackers worse, 
the bacon worst of all; and we are as hungry as 
wolves. Just then the mail boy brings in a letter — 
a good long one from you, or from mother, or from 
some of the dear girls on the West Side. Immedi- 
ately all the weariness is gone; the fire has quit 
smoking; the musty, fusty, rusty crackers and baeon 
are better; and I am just the happiest fellow in all 
the world. 

One of our men was drunk, and fought and swore 
so shockingly, day before yesterday, that we had to 
send him to the guard-house. To-night he is taking 
a good repenting cry between the blankets. Do you 
know why? He got a letter this afternoon from his 
mother, and I have no doubt that she spoke of the 
Sabbath-school, the church, and the prayer he used 
to say when a little fellow at home, when his mother 
tucked him in bed. He instantly made for the blank- 
ets ; and though he thinks none of us know it, we all 
know the poor fellow is there sobbing his heart out. 
Do write; long letters; full letters; tell us every- 
thing; we want to know particulars. 

Yours as ever, e. g. 

fatigues of picio:t duty — battle of pea ridge. 

Lebanon, Mo., Feb. 4, 1862. 

My last was broken ofi" rather abruptly because I 
was detailed to go on picket duty. There is a double 
i-ow of pickets all the way round this camp, so you 
can judge of the duty we are required to perform. 
The inner camp is about twelve miles round. Our 



648 " SOMEBODY HAD BEEN FRYING CHICKENS." 

squad went out about three miles and camped. We 
were well provided with cartridges, etc., but had but 
two hard crackers for twenty-four hours. I was 
put on the first relief, and as soon as relieved I 
went with two other men in pursuit of something to 
eat. Of course we were not allowed to fire a gun, 
nor could we run down a Missouri hog. We were 
not foolhardy enough to attempt this, either. I would 
as soon think of running down a wild horse. I pre- 
sume you have had little experience with the four- 
footed sort of animals; you only know the bipeds, 
and so cannot understand my description of these 
four-footed Missourians. Why, the sun almost shines 
through one of them, they are so fearfully thin, and 
all the boys declare that it takes three of them along- 
side to make a shadow. 

But when the sun went down, three or four suspi- 
cious-looking personages might have been seen loiter- 
ing near the hen-roost of a neighboring plantation. 
I sha'n't tell you what they did; but whatever the pre- 
liminaries were, they were speedily arranged, and 
before morning the savory smell plainly indicated 
that somebody had been frying chickens. We were 
not careful enough, and the feathers betrayed us when 
the colonel was making the grand round. 

I have been again detailed to go out on picket with 
my company. Our beat extended a mile and a half 
across a cold and desolate prairie, and cold rain began 
to fall as soon as we went on guard — characteristic of 
my luck. It continued to rain and freeze until three 
o'clock in the morning, and then snowed until we 
were relieved, at one o'clock next day. We had 
hardly got back to camp, encased in ice, when the 
sun burst out in all its splendor. I confess we were 



FIGHTING ENOUGH FOR ONCE. 649 

a little downhearted when we found only hard crack- 
ers. This country is as desolate as Sahara. 

Tea Ridge, Ark.^ March, 1862. 

I am sitting on the battle-ground, and write you a 
few lines to tell you that a victory has been won be- 
sides that at Fort Donelson. Many of our brave boys 
lie around me, sleeping with the dead. I will not 
undertake to give you an account of the battle. I 
could not do it intelligently, and you will have the 
details before this reaches you. But I have had 
fighting enough for once. I only wonder that I am 
alive, for again and again I was covered with earth 
thrown up by plunging shot. While I lay on the 
ground at one time, six horses attached to the cannon 
at our right were killed, and one man in Company E, 
on my left, was struck in the head with a cannon-ball 
and killed instantly. I was so sure that I should lose 
ni}^ life, that I really felt no concern about it. I con- 
sidered myself as good as dead the last half of the 
battle. ]!*^evertheless, I am still alive and kicking. 
Our men were very cool and unexcited during the 
whole battle. Price's army is scattered now in every 
direction. Many have gone home, and the rest are 
driven all over the country. The Iowa Fourth and 
!N^inth were terribly cut to pieces. Our regiment, 
the Thirty-sixth Illinois, lost a few men, and some 
were wounded. The rebel general Ben McCullough 
was killed. Generals Mackintosh and Price were 
wounded. I have not heard from you for weeks. 
Are you too busy to write? 

Yours truly, s. P. s. 



CHAPTER XXXY. 

SOLDIERS' LETTERS FROM THE FRONT DURING THE SECOND 
YEAR OF THE WAR — HOW A SOLDIER FEELS IN BATTLE 

— SWAMPS OF THE CHICKAHOMINY — A BABY ON THE 
BATTLE-FIELD — "OLD ROSY." 

Letter from a Nivrse on a Hospital Boat — After the Battle of Shlloli — Bat- 
tle Scenes — " Marching all Day, and fighting all Night" — Fearful Con- 
dition of the Sick and Wounded — Intimidating Etfect of the howling 
Shells — Burning commissary Stores — "It is all over! I am to be 
killed!" — Hard Lot of the Sick — Wading through the villanous Mud 
of Virginia — General Howard wounded — "Hereafter let's buy om* 
Gloves together!" — Letters from Home — "A Means of Grace" — 
Negro Friendliness — Splendid Foraging — Surprised at the good-looking 
Yankees — Life in a Rebel Prison — The Counterpart of Jeffreys and 
Haynau — Putrid Mule-Beef — Soup swarming with Bugs and Maggots 

— "A Baby on the Battle-Field" — The Army of the Cumberland — 
"Old Rosy" — Nationalities represented in the Army — " Schpike dem 
new Guns! No, Sheneral, it vould schpoil dem!" 

LETTER rPtOM A NTUKSE ON^ THE CITY OF MEMPHIS 

AFTER THE BATTLE OF SHILOH. 

Hospital Boat City of Memphis, 
Pittsburg Laxding, Tenx., June 6, 1862. 

HAVE not yet become familiar with my 
new field of labor. It is one where all 
classes and creeds are reduced to a common 
equality by the stern leveller, war. You 
are well versed in the sad story of battle and 
death connected with this locality. The heart's 
blood of our sons, fathers, and brothers has been 
freely poured out on the plains of Shiloh. The com- 
mon private and the common enemy have been 
buried where they fell. It was not possible to do 
otherwise. But I have a kind of heartbreak as I 
look at the rude and unsightly trenches in which 
thousands of our soldiers are buried. In one grave 

650 




HOSPITAL SCENES. 651 

within a quarter of a mile of Shiloh church lie forty- 
seven Union men with their captain. A few rods 
from them is a long trench in which were buried two 
hundred aud thirty-four secessionists. My post of 
labor is on the hospital boat City of Memphis. 
She has taken to the general hospitals at Mound 
City, Paducah, Cairo, and St. Louis, over five thou- 
sand sick and wounded since the battle of Pittsburg 
Landing. An old, gray-haired man is working with 
me. He is a nephew of General Winfield Scott. 
He and three sons are fighting to save the Union ; 
he as a hospital nurse, and they as Union soldiers. 

Many incidents of dail}^ occurrence show what 
strong ties of friendship bind officers and soldiers 
together. A lieutenant was wounded. We took him 
on board. "When it was time to start, most of his 
command came to bid him " Good-bye." They took 
him by the hand, unable to speak a word, but wiped 
off manly tears from their bronzed cheeks with their 
coat-sleeves. At last, one who had better control of 
his feelings than the rest grasped the hand of the 
lieutenant, and said, " Good-bye, Bob! God bless 
you! Get well as quick as you can, and write to a 
fellow as soon you are able ! " 

Another, whose leg had been amputated, asked me 
to take the address of his young wife, and, as soon as 
I could, write, her a letter; for he did not wish her 
to be kept in suspense until he was able to write 
himself. He seemed disposed to talk; but as he was 
very weak, and the surgeon insisted upon his being 
quiet, I sat down beside him, and soothed him by 
repeating to him fragments of hymns. Twice I went 
through the whole of that beautiful hymn, " ^N'earer, 
my God, to Thee!" 



(352 A TEKRIBLE WEEK. 

" Oh," said he, " I have heard that sung hundreds 
of times, but never before did it sound to me so 
beautiful." He dropped asleep. I went to him two 
or three times to be sure that all was well with him, 
and was gratified that his slumbers were so calm. 
The last time my foot slipped. I brought a shaded 
night-lamp for examination, and found a large pool 
of blood coagulating under his cot. I turned the 
light full upon the young fellow's face. He was 
dead. The leg had not been well bandaged after 
amputation. The artery had slipped, and he had 
bled to death. I had a very different letter to write 
the young wife from Avhat I had planned. How 
thankful I shall be when this stormy night of war is 
ended, and when the peace bells shall once more 
announce the beginning of a new day. 

Yours as ever, j. s. 

BATTLE SCENES RETREAT TO HARRISON's LAISTD- 

ING, VIRGINIA. 

Camp near Harrison's Landing, Va., July 21, 1862. 

Of course you have already heard a great deal 
about our famous retreat — or ''^change of front,'''' as 
our commander-in-chief and our newspapers prefer to 
call it. The scenes through which I passed during 
that terrible week, seem more like a dream to me 
than a reality. For seven consecutive days, some 
part of the army was engaged with the enemy. The 
men were worn by hardship, and were suffering from 
the malign influences of an unhealthy climate. But 
they were obliged to manoeuvre before the enemy, or 
to fight him all day, and then to march all night — 
carrying knapsacks, guns, and whatever else they 
needed. This, protracted through a whole week, has 



FALLING BACK FROM RICHMOND. 653 

been almost unendurable. If ever men merited 
gratitude at the hand of their country, these poor 
fellows do. 

We were ordered to strike our tents Saturday 
morning, the 28th of June. It was whispered that 
we were to fall back from Richmond. Our camp 
was situated in the timber, some two miles in front 
of the enemy's lines. We had hardly commenced 
the business of striking tents, when the enemy's 
shells began to scream through the air over onr 
heads. Few things have so intimidating an effect 
upon men as these shells. They howl, shriek, 
whistle, and sometimes seem to groan, as they pass 
through the air. And though 3=^ou cannot see them 
— so rapid is their flight — unless when they explode, 
you hear them so distinctly that you think you might 
see them if you took time and looked sharp. We 
did not get far from our camping-ground that day. 
At night, we bivouacked upon the ground. 

The next morning I awoke early, not much rested, 
for my bed was in a swampy 2)asture, and it had 
rained. Our sick and wounded had been taken 
mostly to Savage Station, upon the railroad. A 
sadder sight I never beheld. I know not how many 
hundreds of sick and wounded were there, in a con- 
dition so unprotected and wretched that a heart of 
stone would have ached. The number was so large 
that there were only tents to shelter a few of them. 
The amount of suffering was so great that to me it 
seemed absolutely useless to try to do anything to 
make the poor fellows more comfortable. Their 
wounds were of every possible description. Some of 
the gaping wounds were actually flyblown, and cov- 
ered with larvae and maggots. Many were without 



654: MAKCIIINa, COUNTEKMAEOHING AND FIGHTING. 

shirts and drawers. Some were entirely nude, and 
tried to wrap themselves in a ragged blanket. 

They were burning commissary stores in the 
neighborhood, which could not be taken away, and 
that might fall into the hands of the enemy. In the 
conflagration there was a constant explosion of shells, 
that, by accident or otherwise, were mixed with the 
general mass. The fragments of exploded shells 
were hurled over among these poor wounded fellows, 
lacerating and killing them, so that at last all at- 
tempts to remove them to a safer place were aban- 
doned, as some of the assistants were themselves 
killed. All these wounded and sick fell into the 
hands of the enemy. But as they had more than 
enough sick and wounded of their own, they sent a 
flag of truce to General McClellan to come and re- 
move them — and this was done. But in what a 
plight were they removed! 

The day was occupied with marching and counter- 
marching — none of us understanding what was 
aimed at, and content to blindly obey orders. Again 
it was night. But after darkness had set in, a bat- 
tery that the enemy had been getting in position 
opened upon us. We endured the most fearful shell- 
ing, so all confess that heard it, that has been known 
in the progress of this war. It seemed as though all 
the fires in the infernal regions had been suddenl}^ 
let loose upon us. We were in a narrow belt of 
timber, and the shells flew through like hail, crash- 
ing down boughs of trees, and ploughing up the 
earth where they struck. It was a fearful hour. 

Earl}^ in the morning, the troops encamped near 
us, with ourselves, were again in motion. It was a 
retrograde movement, and we were put nearly at the 



♦'the planking guns opened on us." 655 

head of the cohimii. It was a confused, pell-mell 
march, — infantry, artillery, and cavalry straggling 
along the road together, l^ature was fairly ex- 
hausted. Again the flanking guns were opened on 
us, and for a moment there was a little faltering. I 
think everybody felt as I did in the first moment, — 
that we must escape from it. But directly the feel- 
ing toned me up, that I must go on, though all the 
batteries of the lower regions should open upon us. 
On we moved through the trees, balls and shells 
whistling and howling around us. The fire became 
so hot that we were ordered to lie down. I expected 
to be killed. I wondered whether I should be taken 
off" by a minie-ball or a shell. The man next me was 
torn in a half score of pieces. I was spattered with 
his blood and rent flesh. Then the splinters of a tree 
that was struck by a shell covered me, as I lay on 
the ground. I am amazed now when I recall my 
mood of mind, for I absolutely grew cheerful and 
indifferent. "It is all over," I said; "I am to be 
killed. My body will be so mutilated that it will 
be buried on the battle-field!" And a great gush of 
joy stole through me as I remembered that my wife 
and daughter would not be sickened by the sight of 
my mangled remains. 

There came a momentary lull in the firing, of which 
advantage was taken. There was a rapid deploying 
of our troops, a swift unlimbering of the big guns, a 
terrific cannonading from our side, a fierce charge 
on our adversaries; and soon by the cheering we 
knew our men were driving the enemy. I was so 
utterly exhausted that I remember it all as a dream 
in a nightmare. Louder and more general became 
the cheering; the whole muddy, weary, and exhausted 



656 WADIJs'G THROUGH A SEA OF MUD. 

army grew wild with delight, and rent the heavens 
with their cheers. The battle was sharp, but it 
ended in temporary victory. A few moments' rest 
was given the men, and then the weary retrograde 
march was resumed. 

Before the head of the column reached Harrison's 
Landing, it set in to rain, and poured down without 
stint. In a very few hours, this broad and beautiful 
plantation, memorable for being the birthplace of 
General Harrison, was one sea of mud. The sacred 
soil of Yirginia became such a villanous paste that it 
was all a strong man could do to wade through it. 
I shall never, throughout eternity, it seems to me, 
forget the terrible scenes that passed before my eyes 
on that day. The whole army was worn out, two- 
thirds suffering from scurvy and malarial diseases, 
and yet it was obliged to bivouac in this horrible 
mud, and to be pelted with a drenching rain. The 
wounded were brought in ambulances by hundreds. 
The noble mansion of the estate was not a hundredth 
part large enough to receive them. It was a blessed 
thing that the river was at hand, and that there were 
transports upon it to receive these poor fellows, and 
to ])ear them to places where they could have better 
attention. 

"It fared the worst with the sick. ]^o appeal of 
theirs was attended to. They lay in thousands 
around the premises, upon the wet ground, covered 
only with a bit of gum cloth or a blanket. It was a 
sight to make a man forever hate the name of war, 
to see these little mounds of human wretchedness. 
They gave no signs of life, save a stifled groan, or 
the motion given to the bit of cloth by tlie act of 
breathing. All day and all night they remained in this 




FAMOUS UNION BATTLE-FLAGS 

S.-MMity rifjlilh Ohio l{i>ql. J. Sewiil.v ciylitli l^-im HoQl LV Tlnrtv sftond liul Ucol 
Nniili Ky \<rai .).Otu^ liimdrwl unci Iwiity mitlli Ills RnQ't (i. Kiylilcciilli N Y(';^valI■y 
/'<7/■/A'.vv■/v/y/rt//.v .ipf /ttitfi'N /1,'f ' fys 
PHOTOGRAPHED AND PAINTED FROM THE ORIGINAL FLAGS EXPRESSLY FOR THIS WORK 

A D WORTHINGTON a CO PUBUlSHERS HARTFORD CONN. 



GENERAL HOWARD'S ARM SHATTERED. 659 

exposed situation, many of them hurried out of the 
world by this neglect. I suppose the sui'geons, for 
the most part, did what they could; but I have a feeling 
that there is a great fault somewhere. Everybody 
declares that the Medical Department, as now organ- 
ized, is a disgraceful failure. 

At the battle of Fair Oaks, General Howard's 
right arm was shattered by a ball, so that it had to be 
amputated above the elbow. Waving the mutilated 
arm aloft, he cheered on his men, and was borne 
from the field. While being carried on a litter, he 
passed General Kearney, who had lost his left arm in 
Mexico. Rising partly on the litter, he called out 
gayly, "I want to make a bargain with you. General. 
Hereafter let's buy our gloves together ! " 

The estate upon which the army was encamped is 
called Berkeley on the map. It is a noble planta- 
tion, lying in a bend of the James River. Every 
sign of vegetation is trampled out, and its broad 
acres are as bare and hard beaten as a travelled 
road. The house is an ancient brick edifice, quite 
large, and flanked by two smaller ones. At a dis- 
tance are the negro quarters, more comfortable than 
I have usually found them. The owner Avas in Rich- 
mond when the army advanced, and had directed the 
overseer to burn everything that the Yankees could 
appropriate. But the order was not carried out. 
Most of the elegant furniture was left in the house. 
The rich carpets remained upon the floor. In three 
hours' time they were completely covered with mud 
and soaked with human gore. The genius of de- 
struction is let loose in war. Soldiers acquire a 
passion for destruction. It made my heart ache to 
see them break mahogany chairs for the fire, and 



660 LETTERS BY THE HUNDRED. 

split up a rosewood piano for kindling. But any 
protest is immediately received by the soldiers with 
cursing of the rebels and all who sympathize with 
them. Yours truly, z. h. h. 

HEAVY MAILS — NEGRO FRLENDLINESS — SPLENDID 

FORAGING. 

Memphis, Texx.. Dec. 20, 1802. 

We entered Memphis yesterday afternoon, after a 
march of eighteen days, when we accomplished one 
hundred and fifty miles. We were overjoyed to get 
back, and were no more than comfortably settled 
when our quartermaster came into camp with one 
hundred and forty letters for the boys. I was one 
of the unfortunate ones who received no mail; but I 
enjoyed the happiness of the rest. A Chicago Trih- 
une of Dec. 8 was read from tent to tent, to a 
tentful at a time. The Hrst notice in the local 
column Avas the opening of the new skating park, 
which seemed incredible to us, as we perspire in our 
shirt-sleeves, without any fire, as if it were mid- 
summer. 

I had gotten over my disappointment when one of 
the lieutenants came into camp, followed by the cap- 
tain, the' arms of both heaped with letters and papers. 
They had brought three hundred and ten more let- 
ters, and an immense armful of papers, ^ow, I 
had fourteen letters and five papers. I read and 
re-read them, and succeeded in digesting them all 
by morning. You cannot imagine what a change 
came over the camp after the men had read their 
letters. 

Sometimes our expeditions and reconnoissances 
take us away from camp for a month at a time, so 



"a means of grace." 661 

that we neither receive nor send any letters until our 
return. The men always become rough and some- 
what demoralized on these occasions. They become 
profane and boisterous, some of them obscene and 
quarrelsome, and there will be bad blood among 
them, with the prospect of several fights, as soon as 
they can manage them. By and by we get back to 
camp, and a big mail awaits us. All the men will 
have letters and papers from mothers, wives, sisters, 
and friends; and there is a change immediately. A 
great quietness falls on the men ; they become sub- 
dued and gentle in manner; there is a cessation of 
vulgarity and profanity, and an indescribable soften- 
ing and tenderness is felt, rather than perceived, 
among them. Those who were ready to shoot one 
another a few hours before are seen talking with 
one another, and walking together, sometimes with 
their arms around one another. It is the letters 
from home that have changed the atmosphere of the 
camp. If the people at home only knew what " a 
means of grace " their letters are to the men, they 
would write frequently. 

The climate is delightful, and as yet we have had 
but little weather that could be called chilly. The 
December weather has been like that of September 
and October in Chicago. Trees are budding, birds 
are singing, and the flies are a torment. As we go 
farther south I presume the weather will be even 
warmer. Almost all the inhabitants left in the 
country are old men and women and negroes. 
There is any number of the latter. We could have 
collected a small army of contrabands if the Emanci- 
pation Proclamation had been in effect. Most of the 
work in the army is done by negroes. Some regi- 

40 



062 IMMENSE SUPPLIES. 

ments have sixty or a hundred of them. They cook, 
take care of the horses, wash, make roads, buikl 
bridges, and do almost all the heavy work. It sur- 
prises them to see white men work. " Why," they 
say, " you can harness a horse as well as any nigger. 
Our massas could no more harness a horse than they 
could fly." They constantly ask me why we will 
not let them fight. Most of them say they will stay 
with us through thick and thin, if we will only bury 
them when they are killed. Some of them are very 
importunate to drill and get ready against they are 
needed. 

You would be surprised to see the amount of provis- 
ions the white people have stored away. When our 
men go to their houses and help themselves to sugar, 
molasses, meal, or anything, they will beg most piti- 
fully: " Oh, don't take that, it is all I've got! I shall 
starve ! " But an investigation of cellars, sheds, and 
smoke-houses, reveals immense quantities of sup- 
plies. Not a man in ten even pretends to be in favor 
of the Union; and they say all they dare in favor of 
the South. They declare that the ]^orth has always 
abused them, and that the time has come for them to 
rebel. They openly express their surprise to see 
such good looking men among the Yankees. Our 
orderly took dinner with a wealthy planter one day, 
and, while at the table, the lady of the house asked 
her little daughter, "if that man looked like a 
Yankee? " pointing to the orderly, who is a very fine 
looking fellow. "Why, no! " said the young lady; 
" I don't believe he is." When the orderly asked the 
reason of her doubt, she answered very frankly, 
" Why, Yankees are hideous looking creatures ! " 
Truly yours, G. t. 



IN^ THE EMBRACES OF THE " BUTTERNUTS." 663 



LIFE IN A REBEL PRISON. 

Wasuington, D. C, Jan. 5, 1863. 

It is SO long since I have been able to write you, 
that I feel like saying, in the words of the old Scotch 
song, — 

" Oh, years have flown since we have met, 
And sorrow has been mine." 

I have been learning, with a very ill grace, I fear, 
a lesson of patience and resignation in the prisons of 
Dixie. When I enlisted I had no expectation of 
being covered with glory or crowned with bay leaves ; 
but I confess that I have seen considerably more 
than I bargained for. I fell into the tender embraces 
of the " Butternuts " on the 1st of last June, with a 
score of my comrades of the Ninth Michigan, and we 
have just been released from their loving hands. 

I was taken in a skirmish at Chattanooga, Tenn. 
My captors conveyed me into the presence of Gen- 
eral Kirby Smith. He questioned me very closely 
as to the number of men we had across the river, 
if our officers intended to attack the town, etc., — 
questions which he had no right to ask, and which 
I had no idea of answering. After evading them 
for some few minutes, I replied to the august Kirby, 
as he demanded that I should tell him the truth, 
that he could easily solve all his own problems by 
crossing the Tennessee River, and reconnoitring for 
himself. 

" Don't you dare give me any of your Yankee im- 
pudence ! " was his amiable reply, and then I was 
dismissed to the camp of the Forty-third Georgia, 
where I was detained a couple of weeks. With 
other prisoners, I Avas marched to Atlanta, Ga., from 



664 IN'HUMAN' TREATMENT. 

thence to Macon, and turned in with about thirteen 
hundred Yankee prisoners, taken at various times 
and places. The camp consisted of about four acres, 
and was enclosed by a broad stockade, twenty feet 
high. I think the location was healthy, and we 
were well supplied with water ; but we lacked almost 
everything else. The months of my detention there 
seemed to me like years, life was so desolate. 

The infamous Rylander, the " secesh " major in 
charge of us at Macon, has a counterpart in the 
bloody-handed Jeffreys of English history, or in the 
inhuman Haynau of the Hungarian war. He in- 
structed his guards to shoot " the first Yankee 

that came within ten steps of the guard line." I con- 
fess that there were days when the wish within me 
was so strong to murder this tyrant, that it was all I 
could do to prevent myself rushing upon him, fool- 
hardy as the deed would have been; for I should 
have fallen before I had reached him. He could 
have brought a little sunshine into our dreary lives 
— he could have soothed the dying hours of many of 
our poor fellows — but he seemed to take a fiendish 
delight in seeing the men droop and die. Nearly 
three hundred of our men died in this prison during 
the four months that I was a prisoner there. Every 
state in the Union was represented. 

Many of the boys were young and not inured to 
hardships, and they went under rapidly. Fragments 
of that sad poem, " The Prisoner of Chillon," would 
cross my memory as I saw palefaced striplings die 
before my eyes, without the power to help. As true 
as there is a God in Heaven, many were starved to 
death, and perished for lack of the bare necessities 
of life. Some who grew insane with their sufierings, 



STARVATION RATIONS. 065 

rushed beyond the dead line, and were shot imme- 
diately. That was merciful compared to the treat- 
ment others received. 

Our rations were a half pint of flour and a small 
piece of bacon per man. Some of the time the 
bacon was so bad that we had to throw it away. 
AYhen we did not have bacon, we were sometimes 
furnished with what we believed was mule beef. At 
times this was so putrid that it was impossible to eat 
it. We had no salt, unless we bought it at the rate 
of two dollars and a half per pound. If we asked 
for flour, we could have it by paying a dollar for 
three pints. Sometimes we received beef; but we 
were never allowed but eighteen pounds of beef, 
bone included, for one hundred men. Sometimes 
soup was made with this beef, and with black beans. 
River water was used in the making of the soup. 
Part of the time it was without salt; but it always 
contained plenty of bugs and maggots. Our rubber 
blankets, canteens, and haversacks were taken from 
us. Some of us received tents. Some had to lie 
outdoors; but none of us had anything with which 
to cover our bodies. 

About the middle of September, rumors of a gen- 
eral parole of prisoners reached us, and by the last 
of October, with as thankful hearts as must have 
filled the bosoms of those released from the Bastile, 
we left the hated place. Death on the battle-field, 
death in the hospital, or death under any circum- 
stances, is preferable to the brutality and starvation 
of a rebel prison. We were crowded into cattle cars 
and started for Richmond. At Columbia, S. C, we 
were stared at like wild animals; and the people 
appeared surprised and disappointed that we did 



666 " THIS BELONGS TO UNCLE SAM ! " 

not have horns, and hoofs. The cultivated and 
refined ladies amused themselves with walking back- 
wards and forwards, making faces at us, spitting at 
us, and uttering gibes. 

At Charlotte, IST. C, we remained four days, await- 
ing transportation to Raleigh, with only a little rice, 
bread, and more putrid meat, which lasted us to 
Raleigh. Here we received crackers that must have 
been ancient when the war began, to judge from their 
stoniness, and some raw bacon, which we ate un- 
cooked, for lack of fire. From Raleigh we were 
sent to Petersburg, and thence to Richmond, where 
we were paroled. 

Ah! you should have seen us when we trod the 
deck of " Uncle Sam's " transports, if you want to 
know how men prize liberty. Despite the weak and 
emaciated condition of the boys, they were wild with 
enthusiasm. They kissed the flag, hugged the 
stanchions of the boat, patted its side, and said, 
" This belongs to Uncle Sam!" I was starving for 
coffee, and spent most of the first night drinking 
coffee, until there began to be danger of my becom- 
ing water-logged. As we steamed down James 
River to Fortress Monroe, up Chesapeake Bay, and 
the Potomac River, to the national capital, I think, 
despite our worn, ragged, and dirty condition, the 
sun never shone on a happier set of fellows. 

I have some new ideas concerning the Southern 
soldiers. Hatred of the I^orthernei'S seems to be the 
one absorbing passion of their lives. They have any 
quantity of brute force, for they have been reared to 
be hardy physically. But the illiteracy of the 
Southern army is amazing. ^N^ot one in ten can read 
or write. How the South will get through the win- 



A TOUCHING LITTLE INCIDENT. 667 

ter is a mystery to me, for the corn crop of Georgia 
and North and South Carolina is exceedingly scanty, 
and there is a gi"eat scarcity of meat. Shoes are 
worth nineteen doHars a pair. Eveiything is scarce 
and expensive. The only means of subduing this 
rebellion, in camp and in council, is with powder, 
ball, and bayonet. But will you think me lacking in 
patriotism Avhen I confess that just now I feel like 
endorsing Horace Greeley's j^i'oposition to " let the 
wayward sisters depart in peace " — or in ^9^eces, as 
they prefer? Ever yours, J. b. r. 

A BABY ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. 

Bolivar, Tenn., Jan. 10, 1863. 

Let me relate a touching little incident that is very 
affecting. At the battle of 'Hatchie, when the con- 
flict was raging fiercest, midway between the con- 
tending forces we found a little blue-eyed baby 
lying on the cold earth. A tear was on its cheek, 
which it had wejit at finding itself alone, but it was 
unalarmed amid the awful confusion of the battle. 
With the missiles of death flying thickly about 
it, and crowding close upon its life, it lay there 
in miraculous safety, and by its smiles, and help- 
lessness, and innocence, appealed to us for protec- 
tion. 

Now would you suppose that in the midst of that 
wild, fierce battle, with the field strewn with the 
dead, the shrieks of the wounded rending the air 
with agony, a great army would pause to save a 
helpless baby? Yet that is just what the Fourteenth 
Illinois did; and an oflftcer of the regiment ordered 
the baby carried to headquarters, and tenderly cared 
for. The next day after the battle, the baby was 



G68 MOTHER SEARCHING FOR HER CHILD. 

brought before the Fourteenth and unanimously 
adopted as " the child of the regiment." 

But three or four days later a heart-stricken, 
poverty-pinched mother came searching the battle- 
field and the camp in quest of her child. Wild 
exclamations of thanksgiving burst from her when 
she learned that her child had been rescued, and 
cared for with a mother's tenderness. I saw her 
receive the child, heard her brief prayer for the 
soldiers who saved it, and, with the blessing of a 
thousand men following her, she carried away our 
little laughing, blue-eyed baby. 

Always yours, o. 

THE ARMY OF THE CUMBERLAND GENERAL ROSE- 

CRANS GERMAN OFFICERS. 

In Camp neak Mukfreesboro, Tenn., Jan. 22, 1863. 

After so long a silence, I seat myself to write you 
concerning the Army of the Cumberland. Since the 
battle of Stone River many changes have taken place 
with us. Our poor wounded comrades have all been 
sent ISTorth. ]N^ot, alas, as they came to us; for then 
they could carry whatsoever they needed, and now 
they return unable to carry themselves. But such is 
the fortune of war. 

A large convalescent camp has been established 
near the fortifications, whei-e the boys are taken as 
soon as they begin to recover and approach the time 
when they are fit for duty. This is a noble institu- 
tion, and reflects credit on our worthy general. 
]!!^ear the camp is a large field or kitchen garden, cul- 
tivated by convalescents and details from the army, 
where will be raised more garden sauce, or " truck," 
than could possibly be consumed by the entire con- 



GENERAL GOOD PEELING. 669 

valescent corps. This is necessary on account of 
scurvy. 

"We are indebted to " Old Kosy " (General E,ose- 
crans) for the great improvement in our bill of fare 
and general condition. We in the Army of the 
Cumberland think him almost as big a man as " Old 
United States" (General Grant) or "Tecumseh" 
(General Sherman). We have drawn pickles, good 
ones too; something we have not seen before since 
we enlisted. They have sharpened our appetites, 
which, to tell the truth, were keen enough before. 
We have also received pepper, which you should be 
deprived of for a time if you wish to know how to 
appreciate it. We have also received a lot of real 
" Irish Murphys " (potatoes) . These favors cause 
us to mention the name of "Old Rosy" very grate- 
fully. I think it has never been our good fortune 
since we went into the service to be situated where 
there was such general good feeling. We think we 
have the right man in the right place, and we hope 
the authorities at Washington will agree with us. 
We could not lose Kosecrans from this army without 
serious injury. 

A few days ago, one of the boys, in a fit of great 
wrath, occasioned by a letter he received from his 
family, who were suffering from want, wrote the 
following letter to General Kosecrans : — 

General, — I have been in the service eighteen months, and 
have never received a cent of pay. I desire a furlough for fifteen 
days that I may go home and remove my family to the poor- 
house. 

" Old Rosy " gave him his furlough. 
In my last I complained about the German officers, 
did I not? Well, I guess I must take that back. 



670 MANY NATIONALITIES IN THE AKMY. 

They are splendid fighters; in fact, all the foreigners 
are who are with us. I wonder if you know how 
many nationalities are represented in this army. 
Sigel is a German, Turchin is a Russian, Stahl a 
Hungarian, Maggi a Sardinian, De Monteine is a 
Frenchman, De Courcey an Englishman, Ericsson 
a Swede, Corcoran and Meagher are Irishmen, and 
•Fidelia is an Italian. 

There is a German officer in camp concerning 
whom they tell this story; they say at the battle of 
Shiloh he rode up to an aide and inquired for Grant. 
" That's him with the field glass," said the aide, 
wheeling his horse about. Our Dutchman rode furi- 
ously up to the General, and, touching his cap, thus 
addressed him : — 

" Sheneral, I vants to make von report. Schwartz's 
Battery is took." 

"Ah," said the General, "how is that? " 

" Veil, you see, Sheneral, de sheshessionists came 

up to de front of us ; de sheshessionists flanked 

us ; and de sheshessionists came to de rear of 

us; and Schwartz's Battery vas took." 

"Well, sir," said the General, "you, of course, 
spiked the guns?" 

"Vat!" exclaimed the Dutchman, in great aston- 
ishment, " Schpike dem guns ! Schpike dem new 
guns! IS^o, Sheneral, it vould schpoil dem." 

" Well," said the General, sharply, " what did you 
do?" 

" Do, Sheneral? Vy, ve took dem back again from 
de sheshessionists ! " 

These Germans will fight, and they care as much 
for this country as we Yankees do. And so, if I 
have complained of them, forget it. 



QUEER KIND OF JUSTICE. 671 

For several days past, sentence of death has been 
daily executed upon spies, murderers, and deserters. 
Spies and murderers are hanged, but deserters are 
shot. It is a fearful thing for soldiers to shoot their 
companions in arms, and yet to maintain discipHne it 
has to be done. Two were executed to-day. Thou- 
sands flocked to witness the spectacle, but I went as 
far as possible from the sight of the tragedy. Dui'ing 
the last two years I have seen men enough making 
their unceremonious exit from this vale of tears and 
" hardtack " not to feel eager to witness any one's 
deUberate departure. 

Cedar rails make excellent firewood, and that is 
probably the reason why there are no fences in this 
vicinity. Rail fences disappear like dew before the 
sun the moment an army camps in their vicinity. 
Our camp is in close proximity to the battle-ground, 
and the stench arising from the carcasses of dead 
horses and mules, which have not been buried, makes 
our camp anything but agreeable. We are waiting 
patiently for the fate of Yicksburg to be decided, 
and then we shall take up a forward march. 

Yours truly, s. P. S. 



CHAPTER XXXYI. 

SOLDIERS' LETTERS FROM THE FRONT DURING THE THIRD 
YEAR OF THE WAR — HOUSEKEEPING IN CAMP — RIDING 
"CRITTER-BACK" — DARING DEEDS — REBEL PICKETS. 

Battle of Cliickamauga — Remarkable Presentiment — Housekeeping in 
Camp — Ignorance of the Enemy — " The walking Regiments " — " Can- 
non Soldiers" — Wept over his lifeless Body — Ignorance of secesh 
Soldiers — Yet they fight bravely — Have plenty of Hay, but no Im- 
pimity — Greater Loss by Sickness than on Fields of Battle — Evidence 
that tlie Enemy are near — "Riding Critter-back" — After the Battle 
of the Wilderness — ' ' Any Commander but Grant would have retreat- 
ed" — Recklessness of the Cavalry — Daring of the Soldiers — "Divide 
is the word, or you are a dead Johnny!" — Ten thousand Men sing 
" Rally round the Flag, Boys! " — " One vast, exultant Roar! " — Talk- 
ing with rebel Pickets. 

BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA. 

Headquarters, First Brigade, Second Division, 
Chattanooga, Tenn., Oct. 29, 1863. 

HE sounds of booming cannon and retreating 
musketry have scarcely died away, nor are 
the effects of the great battle of Chicka- 
mauga yet removed from our sight. I see 
this moment a throng of ambulances wending 
their way to the pontoon bridge, loaded with our 
comrades, who, a short time since, were jo3'ous and 
strong, now carried away minus a leg, without an 
arm, scarred, gashed, and with a weight of Confed- 
erate lead in their bodies. 

I shall not undertake to give you any description 
of the battle. Every prominent pajDcr has its sj^ecial 
correspondent down here, and when they write their 

G72 




GREAT LOSS OF LIFE. 673 

letters from information obtained by themselves at 
headquarters — and not from cowardly stragglers — 
it can be, in the main, depended upon. You at home 
are probably better acquainted with the details of the 
battle than we here. My knowledge is properly con- 
fined to the part taken by my own brigade. We 
were not engaged on Saturday at all ; but on Sunday, 
the 20th, we were formed in line of battle, in a strong 
position. Had we been left there, our loss would not 
have been what it is, and the loss of the Confederates 
in their desperate charge upon General Thomas would 
have been double; for we were in position to attack 
them with our artillery and infantry, on their left flank. 
I think we could not only have checked, but utterly 
annihilated their massed columns. But no sooner 
had the troops on our left commenced to give way, 
than we were moved on the double quick to form a 
line in the face of a terrible charge, with our troops 
falling back and breaking through our line, while one 
section of our battery was unlimbered. Our much- 
beloved general, WilHam H. Lytic, fell at the head 
of our column, twice wounded. We could not re- 
move his remains from the field. Our brigade num- 
bered fourteen hundred men, of whom we lost five 
hundred in killed and wounded. My Company, H, 
lost eighteen men out of twenty-eight, and two of 
our officers were killed; but we are in good spirits — 
have not been whipped, and do not believe while 
" old Kosy " commands us we can be. We have an- 
other idol. It is "little Phil" (General Sheridan). 
This place is now in such a condition that it is lost to 
the rebels. They might as well charge up into the 
heavens to obtain the sun as to waste their time on 
this place. 



674 REMARKABLE PRESENTIMENT. 

I have never come out from any fight with such a 
sense of loss as from this. Seven of my company are 
lying side by side in one grave, within four rods of 
where they fell. My dear messmate, comrade, friend, 
and bedfellow, Alvin Bunker, from whom I have 
not been separated one night since we entered the 
service together, was killed in the act of taking aim. 
On the night before the battle we lay down together, 
near where we formed the line in the morning. That 
was the third night we had been engaged, and so we 
were obliged to lie doAvn with neither fire nor coftee, 
although it was very cold and rainy. Alvin and I 
spread our blankets and lay down together, having 
on our belts and arms. Holding each other by the 
hand, we talked for a long night about the possibility 
of that being the last time we should sleep together. 
We promised each other that if either fell the other 
would take charge of his lifeless remains and Avrite 
home all the particulars. And then — I don't mind 
telling you of it — we repeated together the little 
prayer, "Kow I lay me down to sleep," and, with 
more solemnity; and tenderness than we ever before 
expressed, we bade each other " Good night." 

In the morning, Alvin took out his watch, purse, 
some photogi-aphs, and little keepsakes, directed me 
what to do with them in case he was killed, and then 

said, " S , you will have to go home without me. 

It is all up with me. I shall be killed in the first 
hour of the fight." I remonstrated, even with tears, 
for you know how I loved Alvin; but I could not 
shake him in the least. Before nine o'clock, as he 
was standing by me, taking aim, a cannon-ball spat- 
tered me with his blood and brains. 

All who were alive and not wounded soon retreated, 



WEPT OVER IIIS DEAD COMRADE. 675 

leaving our wounded for the rebels to rob, and onr 
dead for them to mutilate. But I could not leave my 
brother, my comrade, and my friend, and I bore his 
mangled and bleeding body with me a little out of 
the ranks of the army and wept over it. He was 
decently buried. If my letter is blue, have I not 
occasion? Yours sorrowfully, s. p. s. 

HOUSE-KEEPING IN" CAMP — IGNORAJSTCE OF THE 

ENEMY. 

Little Rock, Ark., Nov. 20, 1863. 

We boys have learned pretty well how to take 
care of ourselves, and, about as soon as we get into 
camp, we set up house-keeping, as though we ex- 
pected to spend our lives in camp. Cosey cabins are 
fitted up. One will have a fireplace and a chimney, 
which he plasters with the red earth. Another has 
" jerked " a crane from some " secesh " house, and 
swings thereon his three-legged dinner-pot. Tables, 
stools, and benches are tumbled together in the 
quickest way possible, and by the roughest of car- 
13enters. Most of us have a bit of looking-glass that 
hangs on the wall, revealing to us our bronzed faces. 
Some of the boys have "jerked" a banjo from some 
quarter, which is strung up on a hook; and before 
many days the whole camp will have a real homelike 
air. The spaceways between the tents are cleared 
and kept smooth, or " policed," as the camp language 
has it. And in front of the tents there will be always 
little seats shaded by boughs of trees, where we can 
take our ease when ofi" parade or duty. 

But suddenly there comes some morning an order 
for striking tents, and then this canvas city vanishes 
more rapidly than it grew. The regiments march 



676 "have hay, but are out of impunity." 

out, the bugles blow, the bands play, the roll of the 
drum is heard. Then the army wagons stretch along 
behind, and, at last, where, but a few nights before, 
all was life and animation, there are only desolation 
and the various impedimenta that a camp always 
leaves behind. 

A more heathenish set of human beings do not 
exist outside the Orient than the country people of 
Arkansas; and the soldiers know little more than the 
civilians. In the parlance of this state, the Arkansas 
Infantry are " The Walking Kegiments " ; the artil- 
lery are " Cannon Soldiers " ; an officer on horseback 
is " riding critter-back." 

We always call our antagonists "Johnny Rebs," 
and they hail us as " Yanks " and " You-uns." We 
sometimes have very amusing conversations with the 
ignorant fellows, which not unfrequently end in prac- 
tical jokes. Ignorant as they are, they are pretty 
good fighters, and lead us a lively dance sometimes. 

Don't imagine that ignorance is confined wholly 
to the " secesh." We have a little display of it in 
our own quarters once in a while. One of the field 
officers dashed up to headquarters a few weeks ago, 
his horse reeking with foam from hard riding, dis- 
mounted, and threw the reins to his servant, who is, 
like myself, a Jerseyman. 

" Feed him ! " said the officer. 

"Isn't he too warm to feed now?" inquired the 
servant. 

" !N"o, not at all. You can feed him hay with 
impunity." 

'•'' Impunity?'''' queried old stupid. "We hain't 
got none. The quartermaster has furnished us hay, 
but nary a pound of impunity." 



BRAVE DEEDS COST MAISTY LIVES. 677 

We have lost more men by sickness than we have 
by skirmishes or battles. I imagine that statement 
is true of the whole army. 

Yours very cordially, h. c. l. 

GENERAL GRANT RECKLESSNESS OF THE CAVALRY 

DARESTG OF THE SOLDIERS. 

Headquakteks Twentieth Indiana, 
Second Cokps, Bikney's Division, June 8, 1864. 

We have been resting for two days now, and, after 
thirty-five days of incessant marching and labor gen- 
erally, and thirty days of battle, we appreciate it, I 
assure you. By " rest " I do not mean that we have 
left the front, and are out of sight and hearing of 
rebels; for our lines are only five hundred yards 
apart, and the occasional whirr of a rifle-ball, or the 
explosion of a shell, is assurance that they still live, 
full of murderous intent. We commenced the cam- 
paign on the 2d of May, and on the 5th were fight- 
ing. Every day until the 5th of June our regiment 
has been under fire, and not a day has passed but 
that we have lost one or more men before its close. 
In the charge of the 12th, the flag of the Twentieth 
Indiana was the first placed upon the rebel works, 
and its bearer, who had carried it since Gettysburg, 
was immediately shot down, and fell over among the 
enemy — dead. He was a noble fellow, and had only 
planted the flag when he fell. 

Again at the crossing of the Korth Anna we were 
first, and alone charged the works, protecting the 
crossing of the others. But I do not like to think or 
to tell of these honorable deeds; for they always cost 
us the lives of our comrades, and the spilling of the 
blood of noble hearts, and their remembrance is 
painful. 

41 



678 "grant does not retreat." 

General Grant's tactics are novel, and to us pecul- 
iar. Any other commander would have retreated 
after the battle in the Wilderness, but he does not 
know how to retreat. He continued the onward 
movement by flanking General Lee, causing him to 
seek a new position in haste. This flanking move- 
ment has continued until now; and rebel papers say, 
" Grant is enamoured of his left flank." I hope he 
will remain so. Confidence is unbounded in him. 
There is much in the letters of correspondents that is 
not true in regard to the great general. He never 
gets in a rage; never goes about cursing and swear- 
ing. He is never loud nor swaggering; and as to the 
stories of his inebriety, they are utterly baseless. He 
is always cool, self-governed, modest, reticent, quiet, 
and low-spoken. We are angry in the army, when 
we read the abominable yarns written concerning the 
unpretentious Lieutenant-General. 

^or^have the stories of his disgusting style of 
dress a word of truth in them. I have never seen 
more style at the headquarters of the army than now, 
and General Grant himself, when I last saw him, was 
in splendid attire, but almost alone. He is the finest 
looking man on horseback I ever saAV. The "inevita- 
ble cigar" is true of him, for he smokes continually. 
He is so taciturn that when any one comes to us with 
an account of a talk that he has had, or heard of any 
one having with General Grant, he is chaffed un- 
mercifully. Not a woi'd that he says is believed. 

This is a fine portion of Virginia through which 
we have passed. War has not, heretofore, laid waste 
many of these old plantations, and a certain kind of 
luxury continues here. The people generally have 
fled at our approach, and, of course, we have appro- 



"not water, but milk." 679 

priated the good things they left behind them, — ice, 
chickens, pigs, corn meal, etc., — they were Inxuries 
to us. Our mess was so fortunate as to be able to 
supply itself with lots of corn meal and a cow, so that 
mush and milk, the best food in the w^orld, has taken 
the place of the army delicacies, — hardtack and 
coffee. • 

A few days ago I met a cavalry man on the road. 
I was thirsty, and asked him if he had water in his 
canteen. He replied, " 'No, not water, but milk." 1 
took the canteen, and laughed at what I supposed 
was the fellow's joke; for I supposed that the milk 
had come through the commissary's faucet. But it 
was indeed milk, not cold. 

"Have you found a spring?" said I, laughing. 

"Oh, no," replied he, nonchalantly; "there are 
about forty cows round here, and we just milk them." 
And so they did. The cavalry men are reckless 
fellows, under less discipline than the infantry, and 
have "just everlastingly lived," in army phrase. 

When I went ashore at White House, I had not 
been there an hour before I saw some one coming, 
leading a cow triumphantly. I followed the man into 
a farmyard, and there I saw signs of the herd that 
he told me of, — not forty, but certainly more than 
twenty. 

The daring of our men is to me amazing, as much 
as I have seen of it. It is reckless foolhardiness at 
times. But it is not surpassed by that of our ene- 
mies. One biting cold morning last winter, when 
the armies of Meade and Lee were drawn up on 
opposite sides of a little rivulet, all strung to so high 
a tension that moments seemed hours, and hours 
days, the deadly strife was so near at hand, a solitary 



(380 SENTES^ELS DIVIDE THE SHEEP. 

sheep walked leisurely along the bank of the stream, 
on the rebel side. A rebel vedette fired and killed 
the sheep, and, dropi^ing- his gun, he rushed forward 
to secure his prize. In an instant he was covered by 
a gun in the hands of a Union vedette, who said, in a 
tone that carried conviction with it, "Divide is the 
word, or you are a dead Johnny ! " " Johnny Reb '^ 
assented to the proposition, and there, between the 
two skirmish lines, the rebel soldier skinned the 
sheep, took half of it, moved back to his post, and 
resumed his musket. His challenger in turn dropped 
his gun, crossed the rivulet, lifted to his shoulder the 
other half of the sheep, waded back to his line, 
resumed his gun and the duties of his position amid 
the hearty cheers of his comrades, who expected to 
help him eat it. 

During one of the eventful nights through which 
we have been passing, when we lay in line of battle 
behind our temporary fortifications, and the continu- 
ous crack of the sharpshooter's rifle rolled along the 
front, a solitary, ringing tenor voice struck up the 
stirring song, "Rally round the flag, boys!" Almost 
instantly, thousands of men, who seemed to have 
been waiting for that or something else to dissipate 
the gloom engendered by the carnage of the day, 
joined in the melody. The volume of voice with 
which they rendered the chorus shook the very forests 
about us : — 

" The Union forever, hurrah, boys, hurrah ! 
Down with the traitor, and up with the star ! " 

The chorus was repeated, the whole line joining in 
it, until the refrain swelled into one vast exultant 
roar, which flung defiance to the enemy, who sent 



INSPIRED BY THE MUSIC. G81 

showers of bullets in the direction of the music, 
but the missiles whizzed harmlessly by. Our men 
were immensely inspired by the music, and it was 
very evident that the Johnny Rebs were equally 
irritated by it. 

I have been having a talk with rebel pickets in 
front. They will trade anything for coffee and 
sugar, will take greenbacks for tobacco, but decline 
rebel money, which our boys have taken from their 
dead. They ask why we do not send back to the 
South the five thousand Confederate soldiers who 
have remained in the hospitals in and about Gettys- 
burg, and who are now convalescent. I asked them 
how they knew this. Their answer was, "We 
learned by grapevine telegraph." The truth is, 
these rebels have asked not to be sent South, as 
they will again be forced into the ranks. The 
pickets express great admiration for General Mc- 
Clellan. They say, "If the South could vote, they 
would make McClellan President." 

Yours sincerely, e. g. 



CHAPTER XXXyil. 

SOLDIEKS' LETTERS FROM THE FRONT DURING THE LAST 
YEAR OF THE WAR — LIFE IN REBEL PRISONS — DREAD- 
FUL SCENES — HORRORS OF ANDERSONVILLE — LAST DAYS 
OF THE GREAT REBELLION — REACE. 

A Hospital Picnic — "The Stump Squad" — Strawberries for the Army — 
"Virginia a vast Blacliberry Field" — "Old Hundred" in Camp — 
Hunting Bloodhounds — Letter from a Hospital Nurse in Annapolis 

— Thirty thousand Prisoners cooped up at Andersonville, in ten Acres 

— Their Hands and Feet rot off — Swarming with Vermin — Bones pro- 
trude through the Flesh — The Men become Idiots and Limatics — Differ- 
ent Treatment of Southern Prisoners by the North — ' ' The Yankees take 
good Care of us " — Last Days of Sherman's " March to the Sea" — The 
Army reaches the Atlantic Coast — Columbia, S. C. , is burned — Destitu- 
tion of the South — "At the Mercy of a General more powerful than 
Grant or Sherman, General Starvation." 

A HOSPITAL PICNIC — " OLD HUNDRED " IN CAMP. 
Hospital Camp neah Washington, D. C, July 26, 1SG4. 

HAVE been wondering if I could find in- 
teresting matter with which to fill a letter to 
yon. I confess the motive is a selfish one, 
for I hope to bring to myself a speedy re- 
^ y ply — 01^6 <^f your long spicy letters, full of 
T news and gossip, and pleasant things about 
my negligent friends of the West Side. 

I have just witnessed a hospital picnic. It is a 
new thing for maimed and sick men to participate in 
out-door festivities; but is there any form of kind- 
ness, or any manifestation of tenderness, in which 
the men and women of the Sanitary Commission fail 
to express themselves? If this war has developed 

682 




"we are the stump squad I" 683 

some of the most brutal, bestial and devilish quali- 
ties lurking in the human race, it has also shown us 
how much of the angel there is in the best men and 
women — has reconvinced me that man, with the 
propensities of the lower creation still lingering in 
him, is yet divine, and ordained ultimately to a noble 
destiny. 

The convalescent portion of this large community 
was out to-day in full force. It was an odd-looking 
company, I can assure you. For they came to the 
picnic provided for them with arms in slings, and 
sometimes with but one arm — sometimes both were 
lacking. Some on one leg, and others, with scarcely 
healed wounds, by the aid of friendly hands and 
crutches, were helped to the place of meeting. But 
there was a group the like of which, I venture to 
say, was never before seen at a festive gathering. It 
was composed of men whose limbs had been recently 
amputated. "We are the Stump Squad!" said one 
of the brave fellows facetiously, " and we are deter- 
mined to see the fun." These were carried in their 
beds, by nurses and friends, out into the grove, and 
placed where the shade was densest, and where the 
breath of heaven could freely kiss their wan faces. 
^ew light came into the eyes of these maimed heroes 
as they looked round on the festive scene. Their 
stronger comrades made good use of the summer day. 
Some were engaged in games upon the thick green- 
sward; others were swinging in the great box 
swings, or trying to amuse themselves in the bowling 
alleys. They were treated to excellent music, by the 
fine band of the Fourteenth ^ew Hampshire, who 
came from their camp to help make the occasion 
pleasant. Every delicate viand which it was safe for 



G84 BLACIvBERRIES rOR THE SOLDIERS. 

the poor fellows to eat was furnished them, even to 
strawberries and ice-cream. And those were fed who 
were unable to help themselves, amid incessant jokes, 
witty badinage, and gay repartee. 

I suppose you have learned of the efforts of the 
ladies to furnish all the sick and wounded men in the 
Washington hospitals with straAvberries. They dis- 
tributed this fruit to nearly ten thousand. They 
expected to do better than this; but they had diffi- 
culty in obtaining strawberries from the Washington 
and Baltimore markets, and could not use the money 
given them for that purpose. Having a large sum 
still unexpended, the ladies determined to use their 
own judgment in its expenditure for the men. It is 
a great stride from strawberries to tobacco. They 
had observed that most of the soldiers desired to- 
bacco, but had not the means for its purchase, and 
they consequently distributed tobacco, chewing or 
smoking, with pipes, to eleven thousand and sixty- 
eight men. The ladies learned very quickly, by 
hiquiry, that there was nothing, outside of govern- 
ment rations, which the patients in the hospitals more 
earnestly desired than this filthy weed. 

There is no limit to the thoughtfulness of the 
people for the comfort and happiness of the army. 
Last Christmas holidays, over five thousand roasted 
turkeys, with all the etceteras, were sent to the sol- 
diers of the Army of the Potomac, through Adams' 
Express and other sources. Blackberries are the 
great luxury of the soldier at present. Virginia is 
one vast blackberry field. The army was never in 
better sanitar}^ condition than now — and it is due, 
so the surgeons say, to the free use of blackberries 
as a diet. One of the surgeons told me that these 



SLNGING PATRIOTIC SONGS. 685 

"Virginia blackberries would save the government a 
million dollars in medical and hospital stores. 

While I am writing a letter about good times, let 
me give you another incident. A few nights ago, 
when the air was perfectly still, and an unusual quiet 
reigned on the earth and in the heavens, we listened 
to the singing of '' Old Hundred," in which some ten 
thousand men joined. The air was vocal with the 
grand old strains. One man had started it, a dozen 
took it up, and directly the whole camp was singing 
it. That was the beginning. They went from that 
to " Sweet Home," " Auld Lang Syne," " America," 
^' The Red, White and Blue," and finally wound up 
by singing " Coronation." Before they had finished 
their concert, the blue canopy of evening was studded 
thickly with stars. I have no doubt the men were not 
only happier but better for this improvised concert. 

One item more, and I am done. One regiment, 
the Fifty-Second Indiana, has recently been hunt- 
ing bloodhounds. They have killed between twenty 
and thirty, valued at a hundred dollars each. They 
were kept to hunt runaway negroes, and were set 
upon the track of some of our men ; and hence the 
slaughter. Let me hear from you as soon as you can 
get leisure to write, and tell me all the news. !N^ot 
war news, but home news — and all that relates to 
the old days of peace. Will they ever come again? 

Your friend, e. g. 

LETTER FROM A HOSPITAL NURSE IN ANNAPOLIS, MD. 
HORRORS OF ANDERSONVILLE PRISON. 

St. John's College Hospital, Annapolis, Md., Dec. 10, 1864. 

I had thought that by being detailed to a hospital 
near where my husband was doing duty, if he were 



686 BRUTAL TREATMENT OF UNION SOLDIERS. 

sick or wounded I could be with him in hi^ hour of 
need. But it was ordered otherwise. I had re- 
quested Miss Dix to detail me to these Annapolis 
hospitals, feeling sure that I should be within reach 
of him if he should be wounded or should be stricken 
down with sickness. I^ot even one of his company 
or regiment was with him. He was sent to the hos- 
pital on the 20th of June, and died the next day 
among entire strangers, as thousands of our soldiers 
do. He sleeps among the silent dead, at City Point, 
Va., on the banks of the James River, where he 
yielded up his life, a willing sacrifice to the cause of 
his country and liberty. 

I trust some kind woman stood by him to minister 
to him when dying, as I am daily doing for brave 
men similarly situated. I believe that the angels of 
God came down, strengthening him as he passed 
through the dark valley, and conducted his emanci- 
pated spirit to his Father and his God. I am com- 
forted to remember this, and to think of the welcome 
that he must have received from the near and the 
dear who had preceded him. I have never so thanked 
God for the glorious faith of an immortal life beyond 
the grave as since I have been in these hospitals, 
witnessing the daily departure of grand and good 
men to the better world. 

Several thousand of our returned prisoners have 
arrived at Annapolis from Anderson ville, Ga., during 
the last two or three weeks ; and more are coming. 
Over thirty thousand of our men have been held 
there as prisoners, cooped up like cattle within the 
space of ten acres, without shelter from the sun, 
without water, without proper food, and receiving all 
the while the most brutal treatment. Twelve thou- 



"that hell of horrors." 687 

sand have been starved into idiocy, lunacy, and 
death, in that hell of horrors. As the boats contain- 
ing the poor fellows approach the Landing, a band 
of music attached to the military post strikes up 
" The Star-Spangled Banner," or some other national 
air, which the returning captives who are conscious, 
welcome with inexpressible delight. The wharf is 
densely packed with anxious friends, gazing upon 
the motley group who throng the vessel's deck, most 
of whom are bareheaded, without shoes, and thinly 
clad. They are equally anxious, after a captivity, in 
many cases, of more than two years, to recognize the 
features of some familiar face from home. Their 
tears fall in abundance as the poor fellows stand 
once more upon what they call " God's ground." 

Last Monday, the flag of truce boat landed four 
hundred more men, brought from the prisons of 
Richmond and Belle Isle. Many were living skele- 
tons, with just the breath of life left in them. The 
hands and feet of others were dropping off from dry 
rot. All are completely swarming with vermin, many 
are insane, and others have been made idiots from 
the treatment they have received at the South. Over 
one hundred were carried upon stretchers to the hos- 
pitals, only a few rods from the Landing. Oh, to 
have been treated as they have been! My blood 
curdles with indignation, and I can hardly endure it. 
Scores have already passed out of life since last 
Monday. They died under the stars and stripes, 
and the flag was laid over their coffins. Thei-e has 
not been a day since their arrival that we have not 
had eight or ten coffins standing in the chapel, side 
by side, awaiting funeral services and burial. Sad 
sights like these must touch the feelings of even the 



688 inhuma:n^ity of southern leaders. 

South ; foi- 1 know there must be humane men and 
women among them. 

The appearance of many of these poor creatures is 
very pecuUar. Their hair looks dead, sunburned, 
and faded. Their skins, from long exposure and 
contact with the pitch-pine smoke of their camp-fires, 
and a long dearth of soap and water, are like those 
of the American Indian. Their emaciated forms, 
with the bones protruding through the skin in many 
instances, and the idiotic expression of their protrud- 
ing eyes, tell of unparalleled cruelty and savage 
barbarity. The strongest land first, and are exam- 
ined by the surgeon. Those that are able are sent 
to Camp Parole, a beautiful and well regulated 
camp, two miles from the hospitals, on the railroad 
leading to Washington and Baltimore. Then the 
weaker and more sickly follow, supported by strong 
men to keep them from falling. Then the stretchers 
bring after them the sad, large remnant of helpless 
suiferers, and they are taken to the ^aval School 
Hospitals or to St. John's College Hospital. 

Last, and saddest of all, come the martyred dead, 
who have died on their journey from the prison- 
pens to this point. There were thirty-eight on one 
boat, the Baltic, and the same number died after the 
boat had reached her moorings, before the noon of 
the next day. The day after the arrival of a recent 
boat filled with our released men, there was a funeral 
of forty-three from the ^aval School Hospital, who 
had died on the return voyage. The}^ were buried 
at one time, wiih sad and imposing solemnities as 
such long-tortured martyrs for right and truth 
should be. As they lay in their cofiins, one was 
struck with the similarity of their appearance, which 



LONG-TORTUIiED MARTYRS FOR RIGHT. 689 

was that of extreme emaciation, with other indica- 
tions of death from starvation, exposnre, and neglect. 

How different this treatment received by onr men 
at the South from that which was given Southern 
prisoners in the hospitals and camps of the ^orth ! 
A copy of the Christian Index, a Baptist paper, pub- 
lished at Macon, Ga., lies before me. Let me give 
you an extract from a letter published in its columns, 
written by Captain W. B. Haygood, of Georgia, who 
was taken prisoner by the Union forces at Gettys- 
burg, in July, 1863. His letter is dated. Hospital at 
Chester, Pa., Sept. 25, 1863. He says, — 

" This is a fii-st-class hospital. Our beds are 
good, with warm blankets, and all have clean sheets 
once a week. We have plenty to eat, and it is neatly 
served. We receive good light bread, beef, pork, 
ham, mutton, tea, coffee, rice, butter, syrup, and veg- 
etables in abundance. All the prisoners are supplied 
with good warm clothing. I have a good suit of 
clothing, and a large woollen shawl. We are all 
right on the clothing question. We have j^lenty of 
reading matter, and I spend a good portion of my 
time in reading. I am in fine spirits, although I long 
to be in Dixie. Whatever reports may be in circu- 
lation in the South, or if you hear anything that con- 
flicts with what I tell you, don't believe it! The 
Yankees are taking as good care of us ' rebel pris- 
oners,' as they call us, as of their own men. I con- 
fess that my prejudice against the Yankees has died 
out under their treatment." 

It is a significant fact, and a full answer to the 
charge of cruel treatment of rebel prisoners at the 
!N'orth, that of five hundred who were selected for 
exchange at Camp Chase, Ohio, two hundred and 



(390 UNION SOLDIERS CRUELLY TREATED. 

sixty voted to remain in prison. And of three thou- 
sand two hundred and twenty- three in Camp Doug- 
las, at Chicago at one time, seven hundred and fifteen 
refused to be exchanged. 

N^ot even are the men in Southern prisons allowed 
to write letters to their relatives in the ISTorth, a 
privilege which is freely accorded to Southern pris- 
oners in our hands. Union prisoners at Libby Prison 
are compelled to limit their letters to six lines. One 
of our women nurses, whose husband is detained 
there in captivity, has just received the following 
letter from her husband, which has been three 
months on the way. 

Dear Wife: — Yours received — In hopes of exchange — Send 
corn starch — Want socks — No money — Rheumatism in left 
shoulder — Pickles very good — Send sausages — God bless you 
— Kiss the baby — Hail Columbia ! 

Your devoted husband. 

Our return soldiers who are able, receive a new 
set of clothing, two months' back pay, and are sent 
home on a furlough of thirty days. Please excuse 
this imperfectly written letter, written by jerks at 
odd moments. My duties as nurse, leave me no 
leisure. 

Yours truly, M. m. c. 

The horrors of southern prisons were well known 
throughout the JSTorth, and desperate chances were 
often taken by prisoners to escape, and were fre- 
quently successful. The following account of a 
Union prisoner's escape while on his way to Ander- 
sonville is taken from a letter written to the Hon. 
Samuel P. Bates, LL.D., by a member of a Penn- 
sylvania " Bucktail " regiment. He says : — 



A LEAP FOR LIBERTY. G91 

About twenty-five members of the " Bncktails " 
were captured with me, and we laid a plan for escap- 
ing from the cars while on the way to Andersonville. 
"We were to overcome the guard, bind and gag them 
at a concerted signal, and leap from the car. I had 
stationed myself near the door, just beside one of 
the guards, with courage screwed up and nerves 
strung, ready to do my part. Just after dark it was 
announced to me that the enterprise had been 
abandoned. 

I then made up my mind to escaj)e alone. The 
weather was warm, and the guard permitted the door 
of the car to stand open. His gun rested across it. 
I stood for more than an hour by his side, just on 
the point of springing out, but still held back by the 
dread of what might be the result. I cannot de- 
scribe my feelings at that time. I knew that in a 
moment I might be a mangled corpse, or I might be 
alive and free ; or, what was more likely, I might be 
disabled from travelling, recaptured, and subjected to 
the punishment that I knew would follow. I took 
out my watch, which, through some unaccountable 
oversight on the part of the rebels, had not been 
taken from me, and in the darkness felt the hands, 
and found that it was eleven o'clock. So, waiting 
for a favorable moment, I suddenly caught hold of 
the guard's gun, thrust it to one side, and leaped 
out into the darkness. The next moment I felt 
myself tumbHng and rolling down an embankment. 
I heard the cry of the guard, trying to raise an 
alarm, as with a rush and a roar the train swept out 
of hearing, and I was left alone and free, but far in 
the heart of the Confederacy. I got upon my feet 
and felt to see if I was all right. I found that I was 



692 BEGGING BREAD FKOM AN ENEMY. 

slightly bruised, somewhat scratched, and that I was 
terribly scared ; but, with the exception of breaking- 
open the wound I had received in the Wilderness, I 
was not much hurt. 

Alone, unarmed, I was in the midst of the enemy's 
country. Above me, to the north, I could see the pole 
star, which was to be the beacon to guide my footsteps 
by night. To attempt to go by the seaboard, I knew, 
would be to invite certain capture. Hence I shaped 
my course to the north, intending to travel till I had 
crossed the East Tennessee Kailroad, and then strike 
west till I reached j^ew River, which I meant to fol- 
low down to the Kanawha. My first purpose was to 
get something to eat, for Avhich I felt ready to make 
any desperate attempt. I travelled through woods and 
fields for three hours before I came to a house. By 
that time I was nearly famished, having had nothing 
to eat for fourteen hours, and then only a small })iece 
of corn-bread. At last I came upon a large Vir- 
ginia mansion, and, having thought of a plausible 
story to tell, walked boldly up and knocked at the 
door. Two large dogs answered my summons by 
rushing out and barking at me furiously, but I stood 
my ground; and soon an upper window was thrown 
open, from which a man asked, "Who's there?" 
Without answering his question, I said, " Quiet these 
dogs or I will shoot them." This he did, and then I 
told him to come to the door, that I was a friend, 
had command of a scouting party of Confederate 
soldiers, that we were out of rations and wanted 
something to eat. He at once came downi and pro- 
ceeded to get what I wanted, all the time talking to 
me and asking the news. I invented some stories 
which made him think that the war would soon be 



BEARING THE UNION LINES. 693 

over, and that Southern Independence was an ac- 
complished fact. He gave me a large piece of corn- 
bread and about a pound of boiled pork. Thanking 
him, I bade him good-night and hurried away. See- 
ing him follow me, I got into the woods as quickly 
as I could, and in a tone of command I called out, 
" All right, boys ! Fall in! Forward! march!" and, 
being afraid that my little ruse would be discovered, 
I was not long in putting a considerable distance 
between me and that house, after which I sat down 
and ate a hearty meal, and then, securing a comforta- 
ble bed among some dense undergrowth, I lay down 
and slept till daylight, which was not more than two 
hours. 

During the next five days and nights I travelled 
as fast as I could in the direction I had determined 
to pursue, meeting with several very narrow escapes, 
from capture, and getting my food as best I could, 
mostly from the negroes, whom I could trust at all 
times and under every circumstance. On the morn- 
ing of the sixth day, I heard from a woman, at 
whose house I had stopped to get something to eat, 
that the Yankees were at Buckhannon, twenty-five 
miles across the Blue Kidge. I determined to reach 
their lines, so I pushed ahead, keei3ing in the woods 
as much as possible. During the day I passed over 
the Great Otter Mountain (Big Peak), and in the 
evening, about an hour before sundown, I arrived in 
the valley, and then I knew there was nothing be- 
tween me and the Union forces but the Blue Kidge, 
which I determined to cross, if possible, during the 
night. I cautiously approached a log cabin, knocked 
at the door, and asked the woman who opened it if I 
could get something to eat. Being told that I could, 
I entered and sat down to wait till it was ready. Of 

42 



694: A DESPERATE ENCOUISI^TEE. 

course, I had to give an account of myself at every 
place I stopped, and I was always prepared with some 
plausible story. Sometimes I was a rebel soldier, 
going home on furlough; at others I was a scout on 
important business pertaining to the rebel govern- 
ment. It was only to the negroes that I revealed my 
true character. To this woman I concluded to tell the 
truth, so I said I was an escaped prisoner trying to 
make my way JSTorth. While talking and waiting, I 
was startled to see coming round the coi-ner of the 
house, with musket in hand, a genuine rebel guerilla. 
There was no escape. He walked straight up to the 
door, cocked his musket, and said, "You surrender! " 
I cannot describe my feelings on hearing that word 
as he repeated it, "You surrender! " Instead of the 
bright vision, which had almost come to be a reality, 
of reaching the Union lines, I saw before me the 
prospect of probable death by hanging, or, upon 
the least provocation or pretext, by the hand of my 
captor; and if I escaped immediate death, then star- 
vation at Andersonville. A heavy weight seemed 
resting upon my heart. I could feel m}^ lips quiver. 
I could not control my voice, and for a moment my 
feelings were those of complete despair. But in 
another moment I was myself again, and my eyes 
took in the situation exactly. It did not take me 
many seconds to make up my mind that, at all haz- 
ards, I would escape from my captor or lose my life 
in the attempt. I determined to take advantage of 
any chance that should present itself. He directed 
me to pass out of the door and take the path up the 
mountain-side leading to the highway. I started, 
but was stopped by the woman, who said, "Wait 
till I get you something to eat," and she brought out 
two pieces of corn-bread, one of which she handed 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 695 

me, which I put in my haversack, and the other to 
my cajDtor, who was standing with his gun lying 
across his left arm. Just as he turned his eyes from 
me, and reached out his right hand, I sprang upon 
him, seized him by the throat, threw him over upon 
his back, and with both hands caught hold of his 
gun, knowing that if I once had possession of it, the 
tables would be turned. The woman now lent assist- 
ance to the rebel, and the only thing for me to do 
was to beat a retreat and take the chances of a shot. 
I slipped my hand down the barrel, cocked the piece, 
and pulled the trigger, thinking I could fire it off 
and get out of sight before my escort could reload ; 
but it missed fire. So, making a desperate effort, I 
tore myself from my antagonists and fled. The 
rebel followed some distance, calling upon me to 
halt or he would shoot me, and when I was within a 
few rods of the woods I heard the cap snap; but 
again the gun missed fire, and in another moment I 
w^as over the fence, into the woods, and out of sight. 
I travelled all night, and in the morning, about day- 
light, came upon Union pickets, and was soon in 

camp, safe at last. ^ ^ i ^ „ ^ 

^ ' lours very truly, c. b. l. 

LAST DAYS OF THE "MARCH TO THE SEA." 

Headquarters Second Brigade, Second Division, 
Fifteenth Army Corps, 
Camden, near Goldsboro, N. C, March 30, 1865. 

I received with great gratitude the package of 
papers and magazines which you forwarded to me. 
They were not stale to me, but new and fresh, as I 
had been out of reading matter for nearly three 
months. It enlivens the dull monotony of camp life, 
and makes my tent seem a hundred-fold more like 



696 COLUMBIA IN FLAMES. 

home, with a pile of papers and magazines lying in 
one corner, waiting perusal. 

I believe we were at Beaufort, S. C, when I last 
wrote you. I dreaded to start out on the road 
through South Carolina, knowing the settled hate of 
the soldiers towards the state, and their determina- 
tion to destroy all they could, as they marched 
through it. Whether they are right or wi'ong, they 
look upon South Carolina as the hot-bed of secession 
and treason, the prime mover in this cruel war, 
which has cost so much blood, treasure, and suffer- 
ing. As I anticipated, fire and smoke and complete 
destruction marked our pathway. 

We arrived at Columbia, the state capital, on the 
16th February, with but little fighting and small loss. 
Our march to the sea had not been hotly contested. 
Columbia was taken, and the Fifteenth Corps en- 
tered the city on the 17th. It was not the intention 
of our commanding officers that Columbia should be 
sacked and burned, and stringent orders were given 
to prevent this. But the saloons and cellars of the 
city were full of intoxicating drinks. The boys found 
them, got drunk, and broke from all restraint. A 
few were shot for disobedience to orders, and many 
more were arrested; but nothing could stay them. 
They rushed on in their work of ruin, like the very 
genius of destruction. 

It was a windy night. The city was fired in many 
places, and as the flames leaped from building to 
building, all the efforts of officers and sober men 
were necessary to save families and drunken, soldiers 
from the wrath of the devouring element. In spite 
of all eftbrts, some were burned to death. The roar- 
ing of the flames, the clouds of black pitchy smoke, 



A N^IGHT OF HORRORS. 697 

the screams of women and children as they fled from 
burning homes, with the yells of the inebriated and 
infm-iated soldiers, inflamed with whiskey, combined 
to make that a night of horrors, such as I never be- 
fore witnessed, and such as I pray God I may never 
see again. On Saturday morning, the city of Colum- 
bia was in ashes. I doubt if a city was ever more 
completely wiped out in one night. 

Camden, the place made memorable in the history 
of the Eevolution by the defeat of Genei-al Greene 
by the British, shared nearly the same fate as Colum- 
bia, and from nearly the same cause. The citizens 
of Camden had taken measures to conceal their 
liquors in the woods, a mile and a half from town, 
where they had buried them. But the soldiers found 
them, got drunk, straggled into Camden, and the 
night was again lighted up by the fires of burning 
buildings, which spread their lurid glare over the 
country for miles. 

Cheraw, on the Great Pedee, was the next 23lace 
of importance we reached. That was pretty well 
scorched and singed, as was also Fayetteville, on the 
Cape Fear River. At Columbia much danger at- 
tended the burning of the arsenal and the railroad 
depots, from the bursting of shells. One shell in 
bursting killed seven men and wounded thirty. Two 
of the men were never found. The hat of one was 
found in a tree; all other traces of them were lost. 

The country through which we have passed is gen- 
erally a pine timber, quite level, with light sandy 
soil, poorly adapted for raising produce, and abound- 
ing in swamps and quicksands. In many j^laces 
where the ground ajopears to the eye to be dry and 
firm, a team of mules will break through the crust and 



698 DESOLATIONS OF WAR. 

go down to their bellies, and the wagon-wheels will sink 
to the axle-tree or box. We have often found our- 
selves in such a fix. It has therefore been necessary 
to corduroy the roads, in some places for miles on a 
stretch. This has made our march slow, difiicult, 
and laborious. 

But the gi-eat evil of all is the destitution in which 
we leave the poorer classes of these people. I have 
often seen them sitting with rueful countenances as 
we passed, sometimes weeping. I^ot a thing has 
been left to eat in many cases ; not a horse, or an ox, 
or a mule to work with. One of our men who has 
been out foraging saw a man ploughing with two 
little boys harnessed into the plough for a team; and 
a Avoman told me, with her cheeks wet with tears, 
that she drew the plough herself while her husband, 
old and quite decrepit, held it, to prepare the soil for 
all the corn they raised last year — and now that was 
gone. It was not the intention of the commanding 
officers that poor people should be thus mercilessly 
stripped. But unprincipled stragglers i-amble out of 
the lines, and out of the way of officers, and show no 
mercy or heart. They are the " bummers " of the 
army. Those who could, fell into our ranks as refu- 
gees, and came through to a point where they could 
get transportation, fleeing from a general more power- 
ful than General Sherman or Grant — general star- 
vation. They were looking for a place where they 
and their wives and children could live, but did not 
know where to go. 

We passed over the battle-field of the old Revo- 
lution, near Camden, and a citizen showed us where 
General Greene had his headquarters, on a little hill 
capped by a sugar-loaf-shaped rock. But what were 



"the woods full of them." 699 

the military operations of that day and age in 
comjDarison with the present? I suppose General 
Greene's whole army would not compare in numbers 
or efficiency with one of the divisions of our corps. 

It is not necessary for me to give accounts of our 
battles. You receive those by the papers sooner 
and more complete and correct than I can give them. 
Suffice it to say, in closing, that men are constantly 
coming in from the enemy's lines and surrendering. 
A few came in yesterday, who reported themselves 
all that were left of one whole division of their army 
after the battle of the 19th and 20th. They also 
reported the woods around full of men waiting an 
opportunity to come into our lines or to return to 
their homes. 

The war is evidently nearing the end. I shall not 
be surprised any day to learn that Richmond is taken, 
and that Lee has surrendered. It does not seem to 
me possible that hostilities can be protracted another 
three months. The Union forces have overrun the 
whole South, the country is stripped and peeled, and 
the rebel soldiers are thoroughly demoralized. The 
armies of the enemy are melting away like snow in 
a June sun. Please God, let the day of peace soon 
dawn! Let war, which is the concentration of every- 
thing infernal, end in our republic forever! 

Yours for the right, k. l. t. 

Richmond was evacuated, Lee surrendered, and 
peace declared in two weeks after this letter was 
written, and a month, nearly, before it reached me. 
With heartfelt earnestness I repeat the ejaculation of 
my friend : " In our republic may there be no more 
war forever ! " Slavery, the iniquitous cause of war, 



700 A BETTER WORK BEFORE US. 

is dead, never again to know a resurrection. The 
nation is entering on a grander work — that of heal- 
ing, conciliation, and union. A century h'ence, when 
these shall have wrought their perfect work, our chil- 
dren's children will justify the fearful expenditure of 
life and treasure which was the cost of the excision 
of the hideous serfdom which had become an integral 
part of the republic. While it remained, there could 
have been no permanent peace and no certain pros- 
perity. The bravery and sacrifice of the South, 
worthy of a better cause, could not preserve it. It 
was already doomed by the advancing civilization of 
the age, before the Korth and the South fought 
across the continent — one for its destruction, the 
other for its continuance. While we hope that it 
may know no resurrection here, may we not hope 
that it will everywhere cease among the nations 
of the earth? 



H 9U® 



